Doctrine
by Jessi D
Summary: Two survivors of the destruction of Hal'carnasas roam the Underdark searching for those responsible. The twist? They are Maslyrensine, an ulitharid and telepath of high rank, and its experimental thrall, the dark elf Charinda. A story of illithids.
1. Prologue: Beginnings

**Jessi:** **I do not own the Forgotten Realms - the setting and races do not belong to me. Indivdual characters are mine. **Thank you for taking the time to click on the link and please enjoy the story. Feel free to leave comments and reviews, constructive criticism would be most helpful. Of course, if you just want to stroke my ego then that's alright too. :p

* * *

**Prologue - Beginnings**

_Few monsters inspire as much horror or terror as the illithids. They are rightly feared by everyone and everything. Few can match them in undiluted evil, cruelty or cunning. Their origins are cloaked in mystery, their plans are enigmatic, and their culture and thought processes are __utterly alien._

- From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

_220 years ago…_

_1154 DR – Year of the Sun Underground_

Azathlan turned quickly to face its foes, its hand coming up with coal dust falling from between its three slender fingers. With a single gesture the dust ignited, filling the narrow corridor with howling flames. It caught a brief physic scream as one of its foes and the last of the thralls succumbed.

Normally Azathlan would have allowed itself a moment of satisfaction but there were still four opponents left. Three had cloaked themselves in psionic protections and the other had become as insubstantial as a ghost and had hid in the walls of the corridor. Now they drew closer, psionic power building as they prepared to attack.

The illithid wizard summoned two shields. One was of pure force, visible only as a rippling in the air, the other purely mental, protecting against the mental attacks of its fellow illithids.

Psion force exploded against both shields, sending Azathlan's thin body flying. It got to its feet, feeling out its shields. Both were greatly weakened but still there. It gave the wizard the time it needed to pull a thin, ivory stave from its robes.

Ice and frost shot towards the other four illithids, lining the walls of the Underdark tunnel and some of their psonic protections. One of the aberrations remained frozen in place, hands raised in a futile defence.

Meanwhile Azathlan had retreated around the corner, sliding a handful of fine, silver chains out of a pocket. It could pick off its pursuers one by one now that the thralls were gone but to fall to overconfidence now would be dangerous. Had this battle taken place closer to Hal'carnasas and to the elder brain's influence…

There came a hissing noise and a drawn-out rumble. Azathlan felt the flickers of psionic power as the remaining three illithids teleported away. Confused and expecting a trap, the illithid wizard stepped away from the wall, wand in one hand, chains in the other.

Filling the corridor, seemingly made of brain matter, the brain golem came into view. Another wet hissing escaped the creature and it took a step forward.

Impervious to psionics, resistant to magic and even to physical harm – a creation of the elder brain, the golem was prove that Azathlan was never beyond the influence of the elder brain that cast it out. Then again if the elder brain took such offence to his arcane studies wouldn't it be deliciously ironic to use those studies to destroy the golem. It was merely a matter of using those powers wisely.

Gripping one end of the silver chains in its fist Azathlan swung the spell focus at the golem. The cool metal vanished from between the wizard's fingers. Instead chains of steel, thick as Azathlan's waist appeared, coiling around the golem's head, barrel chest and stocky limbs, embedding themselves into the tunnel walls. The construct took one step forward but that only tightened the chains.

A bubbling hiss arose from the golem. Though it was prepared for the attack, the mind blast hit the wizard hard, sending the illithid to its knees. Yet its fingers still crept towards one of its pocket for the next spell focus.

Again and again the golem's mind blast struck at the mind flayer. First the shield of force faded away. Cracks started appearing in the mental barrier. Still the illithid continued chanting.

With a final scream of triumph Azathlan plunged the iron nail into the tunnel floor.

There was a great screech of metal as the stave of iron plunged into the golem, driving through the construct's body and into the bedrock. The thing gurgled and twitched violently.

Then suddenly with a burst of psionic energy the connection was broken. The elder brain's influence was gone and Azathlan was finally free.

* * *

_50 years ago…_

_1324 DR – Year of the Grimoire_

Three days ago it had been human – a broad-shouldered, blunt-featured male. Now the thing writhing in the birthing pod was caught horrifically between two states.

Its limbs were stretched beyond all human limits, seemingly thin enough to snap in two. Hair had begun to fall out in patches and littered the moss-lined exterior of the pod. The bald areas revealed purple flesh, sticky with mucus and other unsavoury materials. It was worse on the head where the brain seemed to press against the skin and squirm slowly.

The two creatures watching the convulsing, twitching wreak had seen the process before. They'd undergone it themselves, after all.

They were formed like a tall, thin human, though any resemblance ended there. The head was shaped like a four-tentacled octopus with blank, white eyes. They were illithids, mind flayers, and the thing in the pod was undergoing ceremorphosis, becoming one of them.

With a final sob the thing finally fell deeper into unconsciousness.

With a small mental push one mind flayer sent two thralls, one to begin cleansing the shuddering host body and the other to gently lift the head, moving it to face the two illithids.

_You see?_ Zygensine gestured towards the body with two tentacles. Its holy symbol rattled as it did so, the narrow coils of chain slipping from tentacle to tentacle. _Six tentacles. It's clearer than ever now._

The developing illithid did indeed have the beginnings of tentacles around his mouth and there were two more than the norm, slightly longer already.

_So it is true_, replied Husamae. _An ulitharid. A chance of one in one hundred of it happening. Maybe even one in several hundred. There was no difference in the physiology of the tadpole?_

_It appeared to be an ordinary tadpole in all ways,_ the holy symbol rattled again as the chain made its way among the writhing tentacles, _I consulted the texts and the elder brain. All agree that there is no discernable difference until ceremorphosis._

_A pity. The forces playing on the tadpole would have made a fascinating study._

_Agreed._

The thing in the pit gave a sharp shudder and this time the scream came directly into the minds of the illithids.

_Telepathy already?_ _This one will be a talented psion if nothing else._

_Ilsensine teaches that ulitharids are akin to prophets, below only itself and the elder brains_, the mind flayer cleric touched his holy symbol with one tentacle; _there are great things in store for it and for Hal'carnasas._

* * *

_12 years ago…_

_1362 DR – Year of the Helm_

Charinda Elvanisstra flexed and arched her back, moving against the iron chains that crossed her thin body. Her back did indeed move from the stone column to which she was chained but it did so by less than a hair's-breath, no room to work with. She tried to shift her fingers in their steel cuffs. It was equally no use – her hands couldn't perform even the simplest gestures. Nor could she sing, not with the steel bands holding her mouth closed.

The bard glanced across their prison. The light was dim, not enough to see much with normal vision but too light for darkvision to work. She'd been conscious when the aberrations brought them down, however and she estimated that the pit was at least two hundred feet deeper than the rest of the illithid stronghold.

She and her remaining clients were chained to individual stone columns. The drow growled deep in her throat at that. Out of a party of seven clients only two were left. It tore at her pride as an Underdark guide.

Burzuna was tethered to Charinda's left, two columns along. The fighter was awake, his head shifting from side to side as much as the chains would allow. His hands moved constantly as if itching to curl around a sword hilt.

Zoorst was in far worse shape. The psion's eyes were closed and his face drawn and pale. Blood ran from his slack mouth – he'd bitten through his tongue when the mind flayers had finally overcome him. He was bleeding inside as well judging from the thinner streams coming from his nose and ears and eyes.

The drow was no expert in combat between psions but she doubted he would wake. Perhaps it would be for the best. Better by far to fade away in your sleep than to suffer at the hands of the mind flayers.

As if her thoughts had summoned them, two figures descended from the darkness above. The illithids remained floating above the filthy floor. The chains fell away from Burzuna and Zoorst.

The psion fell limply to the floor but the fighter took the opportunity. With a roar the human threw himself at the aberrations.

Burzuna was just as tall as the mind flayers and twice as wide. Most creatures would have fled from one of his charges. But the illithids didn't budge an inch.

The fighter was abruptly flung backwards, his body crashing back into the stone column. Unsteadily he got to his feet only to be cut down almost instantly by another mental attack.

With barely a look at Charinda the mind flayers vanished back into the darkness with their two captives in tow. She had no time to watch them go for another figure stepped out of thin air.

The creature standing before her seemed to be an illithid. However, it would have towered above an ordinary mind flayer. It was at least eight feet tall, perhaps closer to nine, and in addition to the normal four tentacles it had two longer ones that hung an inch from the ground. It was like no other illithid she'd seen before.

An amused gurgle escaped its throat and the drow felt the slightest of pressures in her mind. It had been reading her mind, examining her as she was it. She narrowed her amber eyes and growled as best as she could with the metal bands across her mouth.

_Since birth you have existed in the Underdark, little thrall, and you consider yourself worldly but you truly have no idea what could await you here._

Charinda's eyes widened further. She'd been the subject of mind reading before but in all those incidents the mind reader wouldn't have been able to get such information so quickly and without her knowledge.

_I am far more than just a common mind reader, little thrall._

The drow's eyes narrowed,

_What in the Abyss' name are you? To get information so easily? Stay the bloody Hells out of my head, abomination!_

That earned her a cuff across the head, a swift burst of mental power,

_You show a marked lack of respect towards your betters, thrall. The illithid race is far above your lowly stock and to address even the tadpoles in that manner would mark you for a meal. As for what am I, I am that which is above the illithids even as they are above you. I am an ulitharid and you should consider yourself privileged to even be in my sight, let alone to be my property._

_I am no one's property illithid!_ There came another mental slap, this one hard enough to make her ears ring and to slam her head sideways into the pillar.

_You shall address me as Master, thrall, lest you wish me to address you as 'food'._

The bard snarled, her thoughts taking the form of hot, blind rage. In return there came amusement from the ulitharid.

_It would have been entertaining to break you. I would have broken your pride and your mind with horrors so exquisite that only we illithids have words for them. Equally to take your mind now, rich and magic-filled and full of anger, would be pleasing._

_Go fuck yourself!_

Instead of another slap there came a bright lance of pain that produced muffled screams from the drow. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and her body thrashed in her chains.

_You think to enrage me? You think that it would mean a swifter death for yourself?_

_You can… only kill me once… Once I'm dead or once you take my mind nothing really matters. What do I have to lose?_

_You still have much to lose, thrall. You will learn that in time._ The tentacles came up again, resting on either side of her head to steady it. A three-fingered hand gripped her pointed chin and lifted it up so that her amber eyes met the blank, white orbs of the ulitharid, _Understand that I have no intention of granting you the mercy of death. I require living subjects for this experiment, full of pride and anger such as you. You will serve me and all without the shield of a broken mind._

The chains fell to the ground but Charinda remained where she was, held up by psionic forces. Her muscles were gripped with paralysis and she could not even flinch at the cold, slimy feel of the ulitharid's hands and tentacles on her flesh.

_I am Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas, and you will address me as Master._

* * *

**Jessi:** The quote at the beginning is indeed from _Lords of Madness_ which is a D&D accessory featuring illithids and other such aberrations. It is not mine. Please leave a review.


	2. Chapter One: Thrall

**Jessi:** I made a slight mistake in my last chapter. I accidentally left out the 'do not' in my disclaimer. It's all fixed now, but I'd like to say again that I do not own the Underdark, the illithids, the ulitharids and the drow. I do own Hal'carnasas though. Please don't set lawyers on me! :p

As for your question Iceheart Firesoul, the Underdark Guides will be explained later.

* * *

**Chapter One – Thrall**

_Where the illithids come from, why they choose to live in eternal darkness beneath the earth, what they seek, why they take such delight in cruelty and horror – these questions have stymied sages for centuries. The answers are startling and horrible, yet provide little illumination. One can know the mind flayers without understanding them._

-From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

_Present Day…_

_1374 DR – Year of Lightning Storms_

Howling, the umber hulk flung itself at its opponent. Charinda ducked under its scything claws, rolling out between its legs. She came up smoothly and was running before the insect-like aberration had turned back in her direction.

The drow spun round, raising her hands and let out a series of rising notes. As the umber hulk charged again she let out a sharp sudden scream and thrust her hands forward. A great roar of noise filled the arena and cracks appeared in the monster's great armour plates. It staggered to one side, chattering and shrieking in pain. As it did so Charinda saw her sword, lying on the ground across the arena.

Another howl echoed through the arena and the drow brought her hands up, ready to cast. Instead of charging, however, the umber hulk was rapidly vanishing, burrowing into the soft earth. Before Charinda could even begin a spell, it had vanished, leaving the dirt floor only slightly disturbed.

"Shit!" the dark elf ran for her sword, cursing herself all the while. She'd let herself be distracted and the umber hulk's owner was evidently trying a different tactic. Well, she could do the same.

She took up her sword and began one of her Underdark guide spells. The muscles in her arms cramped momentarily but that feeling passed in a heartbeat to be replaced by new strength. She set off again.

The ground crumbled away beneath her foot and she went sprawling, sword flying from her hand. Like some nightmarish vision, the umber hulk rose from the pit, head coming down to bite with its mandibles. Flinging out her hand with another shout she sent five tiny points of light flying from her fingers. They sank into the aberration's face and it recoiled, its mandibles closing on empty air.

Charinda snatched up her sword and, with all her magical strength behind it, plunged it into the jaw and up through into the brain.

As the umber hulk gurgled and died, the Underdark guide pulled herself up out of the pit as the audience began to move.

* * *

Maslynrensine floated down from the terraces with stately grace. From different parts of the arena came three more illithids, crossing the dirt floor to examine what was left of their gladiator thralls, two umber hulks and a hook horror. They seemed more annoyed than angry. There were after all many more creatures wandering the Underdark to be enslaved. Old thralls could be replaced and a dead one still held some value, parts were usable for experiments, parts could be sold and what was left was ground up and fed to other thralls

Its own thrall was leaning against the half-buried corpse of the last umber hulk. It had been a truly massive specimen, its mandibles and claws oversized and razor-sharp. Its owner was the only one that was angry, the defeat would impact the prestige of its breeding programme and experimental umber hulks. Outwardly the illithid appeared calm but it was a simple enough matter to gleam the surface thoughts from its head – at least for Maslynrensine.

The ulitharid summoned the drow mentally. The female shoved herself away from the corpse and obeyed, trying to hide her stiff, tired movements as much as possible: her pride would hardly let her do otherwise. As she passed between the corpses of the second umber hulk and the hook horror and approached her owner, it amused itself by draping one of its longer tentacles around her shoulders, feeling the revulsion and hatred rise in the dark elf.

With short, sharp gestures that betrayed her anger she stripped herself of her borrowed leather armour and threw the sword down on top of it, also dislodging the tentacle. Her hair was coming loose from its bindings and she began to undo it as other illithids began to approach Maslynrensine respectfully.

_An excellent fight,_ Ua-hr, an illithid slaver, was the first to 'speak'. Its tentacles were still writhing from the fight – for the psionic monsters fed off the fear and energy of the combatants, _I had my doubts that your thrall would persevere against my colleague's experiment, let alone two other gladiators at the same time,_ it transferred its attention to Charinda, _But on the other hand, dark elves make exceedingly useful and versatile thralls, as long as the stock is good. _

The slaver walked around the dark elf, examining her long, strung out limbs and athletic build. Though she was only clad in a long, shapeless tunic, she showed no fear and watched it through wary, amber eyes, tying her hair back from her face.

Ua-hr spotted what she was using and plucked it psionically from her fingers. The hair tie was made of gold and covered in elaborate patterns, of unmistakable origin,

_This is githyanki design._

_A small trophy, one of many_, Maslynrensine took the hair tie from the illithid.

_So, the drow has killed githyanki. Good stock, indeed,_ the slaver took another look at Charinda, _The female would fetch a price in any outpost as a guard against githyanki intrusion. Perhaps she'd sell in Ch'chitl as a raider. At the very least Oryndoll has an unending appetite for breeding stock._

_It is my understanding __that the Nourisher creed of Oryndoll is actively seeking out thralls with innate magical talents. The Influencer creed would want her knowledge on various Underdark societies and the Loretakers would strip her mind and catalogue its contents in their scriptoriums. Her price in Oryndoll would be extremely high._

The merchant held his composure. Its irritation would have been hidden from most, but not the ulitharid,

_Of course, the price would reflect such trends. And the quality of the stock__, naturally._

_Regardless, the female is not for sale,_ Maslynrensine draped one longer tentacle across Charinda's shoulder again, _the dark elf is the subject of a long term experiment._

_A pity._

The conversations turned private, the telepathic communication kept among the illithids but Charinda knew what they were 'talking' about.

There would be offers, and in an illithid society that would be complex bartering, whether for services, favours or training. And what they were attempting to barter for was her. She stood as straight and as still as possible, ignoring the protests from her aching muscles.

_Are you concerned, little thrall?_ Maslynrensine's telepathic voice came into her head.

_Concerned that I'll be portioned out like so much meat? I'd be happy enough to get out from under your shadow. You have offers enough, do you not?_

_And you think your condition would improve under another master? And what is the reason for this sudden attack of naïveté?_ The ulitharid's tone of smug amusement caused anger to rise in the dark elf. It did not go unnoticed by the aberration, _In twelve years your anger has not dimmed. It never ceases to amuse me,_ the amusement was dropped suddenly, _But do not forget that I am all that stands between you and my fellow inhabitants of Hal'carnasas. Without the protection that my prestige lends you-_

_Stuff your prestige!_

Pain shot along the dark elf's spine. The… thing inside her seemingly was tearing at her insides and her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and her legs lost their strength. She gritted her jaw, forcing herself not to scream.

_I know your mind. I know you long to plunge a blade through my skull. But remem__ber one thing. My crystal in your head means that I am in your head. The only difficulty your death would present me is the moment it would take me to retrieve it. But who knows what complications my death would bring you._

* * *

Charinda ducked under the spray of cool water, feeling it plaster her hair against her thin body. Hal'carnasas had many of these deep pools, usually the exclusive domain of the illithid inhabitants. It spoke volumes of the prestige of her master that she was allowed here.

She made a face as she realised that she had both referred to the aberration as master and had referred to his prestige. Yet it was the undeniable truth. The only thing that stood between herself and a fate as food or host body was Maslynrensine. She couldn't escape without being hunted down by thralls or illithids. Even if they didn't come after her, there still were the hazards of the Underdark to contend with.

So for the past twelve years she resigned herself to be the ulitharid's experiment, gladiator, scout and assistant. Luckily she had a wide variety of skills considered useful – her bardic knowledge, her songs and the numerous languages she'd picked up in her work as an Underdark guide. And of course, she knew how to fight.

The dark elf stepped out from under the water. At the centre of the pool stood a pillar of granite, carved with the illithid script, Qualith. It was meant to be read by touch and she kept her distance from it, in case the… thing, the crystal, in her head translated for her. At the four corners of the pool were more pillars, these plain and uncarved but polished to a mirror-like shine.

Charinda examined her reflection in the glossy surface. As Maslynrensine said the past twelve years had been relatively kind to her, considering her position as an illithid thrall. She was the same tall and thin dark elf she'd always been – even if her athletic body ran to gaunt these days. The lost weight on her face would have made her hawkish features even more severe were it not for the fact that her hair now reached her waist and softened the harsh angles.

The bard laughed, running her hands through her unusual pitch-black hair. She doubted that drow matriarchs would be considering thrall-hood over a trip to a bathhouse anytime soon.

The crystal in her head gave a mental shudder, cutting off her laughter. Her master was calling.

* * *

Young as it was, Maslynrensine commanded enough respect to have one of most desirable living quarters in Hal'carnasas. In illithid society the older and more respected illithids had living space at ground level, spacious and grand compared to the small and roughly excavated homes of younger aberrations.

The ulitharid was in its library, a vast space filled with books it had accumulated throughout the fifty years of its life. It casually reclined in a long, low seat, a small, dim globe of light hovering over one shoulder so it could read a treatise on surfacer politics.

Charinda was surprised to see a small pile of equipment on one of the many desks. Without looking up, Maslynrensine gestured her towards it and the dark elf trotted over to look.

A few pieces were familiar – they had been hers after all. When she'd become the property of the ulitharid her equipment had become its property by default. Therefore some pieces had been traded, sold or replaced according to the ulitharid's decisions.

Of her original equipment all that remained was her armour, recognisable by the map-and-scroll symbol of the Guild of Underdark Guides embossed on the front; a slim spellbook, marked with the same insignia, with her Underdark Guide charms recorded within; and a collection of climbing equipment.

The dark elf yanked her tunic over her head and took up her armour. It was made of spider-silk, light and soft to the touch, but strong and resilient. She had no allegiance to the Queen of Spiders (in fact the armour had been made for her by a Vhaeraun-worshipping drider) but those in her line of work appreciated it for its flexibility while climbing in the narrow confines of the Underdark.

As she pulled on the armour, Maslynrensine glided across to a particular bookcase. Without breaking pace, the aberration walked through the shelves and the wall behind it, its body with no more substance than a ghost.

Charinda had just finished clothing herself when her master reappeared, a long, carved thighbone held in its hands. She took it and strapped the thighbone, again of githyanki origin, to her back. She watched as the ulitharid took several wands from a stand on the desk, sliding them into its sleeves and into the loops on its belt. Lastly it adorned itself with amulets and rings, even sliding a thin gold bangle onto a tentacle.

The bard had never seen the aberration prepare itself so thoroughly before, even for hunting trips on the surface, even on trade missions to the duergar, even when the githyanki attacked. She was worried.

_You have just cause to be concerned, little thrall._

_How so?_ Charinda had become used to the ulitharid's mind reading, after a fashion.

_You recall the trading mission I led to the slavers __of Gracklstugh,_ it was a statement not a question. It had seen the memory in her head, _I delegated two of the lesser illithids to travel with the caravan, returning to Hal'carnasas at intervals to report. Yesterday, D'gnaanyau was returned by an emergency teleportation amulet, critically injured. A great deal of its blood had been drained and,_ the aberration leant forward to emphasis its point, _its brain had been partly extracted._

_A rival illithid attack? Blood loss could have been caused by weapon damage._

_Zygensine__ and R'itat attempted to heal it but it had undergone too much damage. We extracted what remained of its brain and we gave up what was left of D'gnaayau to the elder brain. Only our leader could make sense of the broken memories within. What attacked D'gnaayau was an illithid vampire._

Charinda gaped. She'd heard of illithid vampires but had dismissed them as rumours and the mad ravings of those who spent too much time in the deepest regions of the Lowerdark.

_The __clerics traced D'gnaanyau's teleportation magic back to the site of the attack. The vampire had killed Hazs-san and without guidance the thralls were easily stalked and their brains taken. The slaves fled into the Underdark to be devoured and lost,_ the ulitharid's tentacles were thrashing it the air, his anger all the more terrible for the power that lay behind it, _This creature has destroyed two inhabitants of Hal'carnasas and denied one their right to join with the elder brain. It has destroyed valuable thralls and slaves. We have orders to destroy it._


	3. Chapter Two: Vampire

**Chapter Two – Vampire**

_Illithid religion differs from most theologies in that it lacks any concern with the afterlife. Mind flayers know what becomes of them when they die – they meld with the elder brain. Instead, mind flayers revere a deity whose philosophies mirror their own: that knowledge is the greatest commodity, darkness the greatest illumination, the mind the greatest power, and illithids the greatest race. They have such a deity in Ilsensine._

-From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

Charinda strode up to the corpse of a minotaur thrall. Or rather what had become an ex-minotaur-thrall. She wrinkled her nose as she knelt closer.

The illithid vampire had been a messy eater. Blood encrusted the minotaur's coarse fur, running down the monster's barrel chest and thick arm from the torn and mangled wound on the neck. She stood again and used a booted foot to push the great, bull-like head to one side, examining the empty skull. It was all she could do at the moment.

One of the reasons that illithids hated and feared the undead was because they couldn't be psionically detected. The only way that Maslynrensine could use his psionics to find the undead was to look through the eyes of others – useless as the corridors around Hal'carnasas were practically deserted and anyway the vampire's aggression would not let it leave a passer-by unmolested.

What the Hal'carnasasians had planned was a sweep of the neighbouring tunnels, though not by the illithids themselves or their thralls. Instead Zygensine and R'itat, the outpost's two clerics of Ilsensine, were imitating their deity and using cranium rats to scout out the area. Both they and Maslynrensine were listening to the swarm's hive mind for any sign of the illithid vampire.

The dark elf made a face as she spotted one of the vermin. It appeared to be an ordinary rat in all respects, but for the fact that a portion of its brain was exposed and shone with a dim light. She hissed as it ran over her foot and resisted the temptation to kick.

The cranium rat scurried over to the seated illithids. When it reached Zygensine, it scrambled up the cleric's robes and settled on the illithid's holy symbol, among the coiled chain and slack tentacles, tiny, glowing eyes fixed unsettlingly on Charinda. She made a face at it, smirking when the tiny aberration vanished deeper into the mass of tentacles.

The smirk faded as a sound came to her sharp ears. It started as a faint rustling, the acoustics of the tunnels making the direction it came from uncertain. She drew the githyanki thighbone from her back sheath, stepping closer to the trio of meditating illithids. The rustling grew louder and louder and the bard sank into a fighting stance, gripping the bone at either end.

Abruptly squeaking started and at the same time something brushed against her face. Tiny shadows poured into the tunnel. As they coasted over her dusky skin she felt the prick of tiny claws and coarse fur and she yelped, batting at the silhouettes to no effect.

The rat shadows merged and a river of darkness coasted up Zygensine's robes to reach the holy symbol coiled in its tentacles. Even when the flow of darkness stopped the edges of the symbol were outlined in darkness. Then that too faded away.

The senior cleric's blank, white eyes opened,

_We have found it._

The trio got to their feet. Her eyes on the holy symbol, she slowly slid her weapon back into its back sheath.

_Come__, thrall._

Maslynrensine's short, sharp command brought her all the way back, her shock replaced by her habitual anger and irritation. She stalked over to the ulitharid who gripped her thin shoulder tightly. Two slender hands, each with three fingers, closed on its arms. The group vanished.

* * *

Having seen the area before through the hive mind of the cranium rats, the illithids did not need to study the area before they started to prepare. Not being so privileged Charinda had to look around for herself.

The vampire was apparently in a high-ceilinged vault. She looked up. All she could see was darkness; the ceiling was beyond the range of her darkvision. There was but one entrance on the nearest wall, a high, narrow arch. The two clerics were casting, forming interlocking walls of blades, completely blocking off the entry. The crystal in her head told her that Maslynrensine had put up his own barrier, one of pure psionic energy.

The illithid vampire wouldn't get through that without the aberrations knowing. She turned and instead padded deeper into the cavern, taking her githyanki bone in her hands again.

The opposite wall would pose a problem. It was creased from edge to edge with ledges and cracks, quite capable of hiding ten times the members in their small group – let alone one illithid vampire. And from what her master had told her, it was cunning enough to use it.

She opened the pouch on her hip. From it she took kneepads, elbow pads and thick gloves made of rothé leather and buckled them on. The walls were made of volcanic rock and the edges of the outcroppings were of razor-sharp obsidian, quite capable of slicing through her armour and her flesh. Finally, she took a pair of leather straps, festooned with metal spikes, and fastened them over her leather gloves. They were nekodes, climbing tool and weapon both.

By the time the three illithids had finished sweeping the floor of the cavern, she had already ascended to a wide ledge with speed born of long practice, now high enough that the ceiling was in the range of her darkvision. She scanned it intently, but it was wholly unremarkable and devoid of undead. Just to be cautious she swept her eyes across the floor as well.

As her eyes fell on the figure of Maslynrensine, its voice appeared in her head,

_It is not there, li__ttle thrall. Continue._

The ulithiard had been looking through her eyes again, her elven eyes being keener than those of the illithids.

_I'll set an alarm spell, in case it comes this way._

_Very well,_ the psion began gliding across the floor towards her.

Charinda tugged off her nekodes and began the gestures to one of her Underdark Guide spells. She splayed her fingers out onto the rock and focussed. A thin red glow shone from under her palms then faded as the alarm spell was set.

Brushing off her long-fingered hands, she stood, scooping up her nekodes. With a sigh she turned on her heel back towards the wall.

It was clinging to the wall. The jagged rocks had sliced into its flesh, strips of dead tissue hanging from its emaciated form. Even as Charinda watched though, several gashes were slowly closing; leaving only mottled grey skin behind. Long claws scraped against the rock as it took one step towards her.

The drow realised she was shivering. For twelve years she'd lived among the aberrations. She'd become mostly numb and unfeeling towards their culture. But the illithid vampire was different. It had none of the cold, alien intelligence it had possessed in life. Instead, its blank, white orbs glittered with feral cunning and it scared her to the core.

Another step and she broke into a cold sweat. Another step and her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. The undead creature was now fully on the ledge, rising to its feet. She screwed her eyes shut with a whimper.

Something was screaming in her head. Something familiar.

It was the thing in her head, the crystal, the tiny part of her that was Maslynrensine. It was screaming that this was the vampire holding her, suppressing her will. She was being held and kept docile like a rothé being led to slaughter!

She had not survived twelve years in Hal'carnasas just to curl up and accept her death quietly! Her anger came roaring back and the vampiric illithid snarled, feeling its domination break.

The mind blast hit just as Charinda threw herself from the ledge.

* * *

Maslynrensine was levitating slowly up the wall, scanning the ledges and creases. With its usual methods of detection rendered obsolete it was reduced to this. Even when the illithid vampire showed itself the ulitharid's preferred discipline of psionics would not be completely functional. In the tradition of illithids Maslynrensine was a telepath, focusing on powers that affected the minds of others. Very few of those powers worked on undead.

That was not to say that it was helpless in this fight. While illithids preferred the refined art of telepathy it was prudent to have at least a few extra powers, of a different discipline, in case of emergencies.

Of course, Maslynrensine was an ulitharid, above the rank-and-file illithids as they were above thralls. Its pride and its arrogance meant the telepath strove to excel in anything it did and its great intelligence meant it usually succeeded. It had much more than a few extra powers.

Its slow crawl up the wall slowed. It planned to look through its thrall's eyes again, to borrow her keener vision.

Abruptly it was struggling to hold its levitation. An unexpected deadweight had crashed into it – deadweight in the form of an unconscious drow thrall.

Though the dark elf weighed very little it still told on the ulitharid. The psion was weightless while levitating. The pair fell towards the floor in a tangle of limbs and tentacles, covering over twenty feet before the aberration managed to halt their progress.

A great shriek arose, painful to hear and made worse by the echo. It was Charinda's alarm spell.

A gaunt shape launched from the upper ledge. Maslynrensine flung out a long arm, aiming… or at least trying to. Charinda's body had pinned its shorter tentacles underneath her and crushed them to its chest. Its cephalopod head could not move! Hissing in frustration, the psion had to settle for flinging its attack in the general area.

Great scything blasts of psionic energy tore through granite and obsidian with ease, hewing massive blocks from the wall. It must have clipped the vampiric illithid as well. A blood-curdling shriek of pain and fury followed it down onto the floor.

Drawing psionic energy to it, the ulitharid willed itself down onto the floor. As soon as it touched the stone it tore its thrall away from its tentacles.

Zygensine glided up towards them,

_Maslynrensine was that was an alarm spell?_

_Indeed,_ it lowered Charinda to the floor, _the vampire went to ground-_

_- - - - - - - - - - - - -! _Something, not quite a scream but a great absence of sound, reverberated inside the minds of the illithids. It carried with it palpable pain and fear.

The two illithids hurried towards the 'sound'.

R'itat was struggling but like its mental screams it was getting steadily weaker. A gaunt, grey figure was clutching the younger cleric to its thin chest, long claws digging into R'itat's arms, puncturing cloth and flesh alike. Tentacles were pulling a wide, messy neck wound apart while its lamprey mouth drew blood, causing the wounds on its legs to heal swiftly, even though they were sliced to the bone.

Zygensine reached for its symbol, tugging sharply on the chain and freeing it from its mass of tentacles,

_Ilsensine knows all and sees all_, it started its prayer, _it takes the dreams of dying gods and devours the dark secrets of worlds. You are nothing in its sight! Be gone!_

Darkness flew from the symbol and struck the vampire. It howled and staggered backwards, its tentacles ripping themselves from R'itat with a wet, tearing noise. Maslynrensine struck the undead creature with a wave of psionic force that sent it crashing against the wall. But the undead illithid was full and sated on fresh blood – it got to its feet without hesitation, trying to escape up into the crevices again.

A thin figure lunged between the two illithids. Charinda had her githyanki bone in a two-handed grip and she swung it like a club. It smashed against the vampire's face, breaking bones and knocking out several teeth.

The undead creature lost its grip on the wall and fell the meagre distance to the ground. As it did so, the bard took one end of the bone in each hand and twisted. The two halves slide cleanly apart, freeing the two swords, two straight blades, forged of purest adamantine.

They went through dead flesh easily and cleanly and she continued with strike after strike, keeping the vampire backing away. As soon as a cut was made, however, it closed, fuelled by stolen blood. Heedless of the damage it did to itself the undead creature batted the blades away, keeping them away from its venerable heart.

R'itat's blood couldn't keep it from harm indefinitely. Not when there were two aberrations still in the fight. It leapt backwards away from Charinda's blades only to crumple against a wall of force conjured by the cleric. Maslynrensine's attack was focussed on one area and it tore one arm from the undead thing.

Following the ulitharid's lead the dark elf brought both blades onto the remaining arm. Her aim was off and her cut skewed: it did not sever all the way through but was left hanging, uselessly, by a few threads. She also caught a tentacle blow to the shoulder and she dropped to the floor out of their reach.

Something darted in closer. Its movements quickened and its strength increased through the power of its dark deity, Zygensine plunged a steak through the vampire's heart. An unearthly howl arose from the undead creature and Charinda flinched backwards at the noise.

In all the songs the bard heard or knew vampires turned to dust when this happened. But illithid vampires were apparently different in that regard as well. It froze, instead, its muscles gripped with paralysis. Its blank, white eyes sank back into its sockets before rotting altogether. More and more flesh began to rot, slower than the eyes but visible all the same.

_A pity,_ Zygensine touched the wooden steak, _that surfacer material was difficult to obtain._

Maslynrensine was levitating the severed arm and placing it at the vampire's feet.

_Ilsensine…_ R'itat was still on the floor. The neck wound had healed a little but was still seeping blood slowly through the long fingers clamped on its neck.

_For Ilsensine's sake!_ The cleric stalked across the floor to its junior colleague. It laid its hand on the other's mauve flesh, healing energy flashing briefly. The younger illithid shuddered as its flesh closed, getting unsteadily to its feet. It rubbed the healed area reflexively, more healing magic seeping from its hand. _Be gone_, continued Zygensine, go_ make a report to the elder brain. Maslynrensine, would you?_

By the time the ulitharid had sent the junior cleric back to Hal'carnasas Zygensine had set fire to the vampire's corpse. Charinda was watching the burning corpse but she was also staring suspiciously at the spot where R'itat had vanished,

"R'itat was bitten. Won't it turn?"

_No. The illithid vampire is fundamentally different from an ordinary undead in many ways-_

The cleric's words faded from her mind as the crystal in her head gave a shudder. Suddenly knowledge flooded into her brain and she knew that there was nothing to fear from R'itat. What made illithid vampires so mysterious was that they did not propagate by leaving wounded creatures to become spawn – their origins were an enigma.

Charinda glanced sidelong at Maslynrensine. The ulitharid was watching the burning corpse intently. As usual there was no sign that her master was responsible for the tiny burst of information. From what little the aberration had told her and the information she gathered herself she'd begun to suspect that the crystal in her head was responsible.

She slid a hand through her hair. The crystal was silent but that was hardly enough to reassure her.

There was after all an aberration's artefact in her head. Something that might be a tiny part of an ulitharid.

And if it could pour information directly into her mind what else could it do? She knew she had changed these past twelve years but what if it was more than the constant fear that came with living amongst illithids as a thrall.

Her thoughts were confused as she followed the two illithids out.

* * *

**Jessi:** I got my hands on the fourth edition Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting recently. All I can say is **what have they done?!** **What have they done to Faerun? D:**

As far as I'm concerned my Realms ends before the Spell Plague. Long live 3.5!


	4. Chapter Three: Ruin

**Jessi:** Thank you to Thazienne who has read my new user profile. Please feel free to look at it - it lists a few things I'm trying to improve and I would be most grateful if people could give me constructive comments regarding them.

I'm also quite happy that most people share my views of Faerun in 4th edition. It doesn't help the fact that I don't like the new things but it does help justify my opinion. :)

* * *

**Chapter Three**** – Ruin**

_Mind flayers dwell underground and prefer to remain there. They have sometimes been encountered in deep-sided chasms and half-buried surface realms, but the world beneath the surface is their realm. In that place, filled with fearsome races and monsters, mind flayers are among the most dangerous predators of the dark. A lone illithid hunting in its element is more than a match for a group of surface warriors, and seldom is an illithid alone. They travel with the protection of their minions, enslaved subterranean monsters, or worse yet, others of their own kind. Those who explore the deep underground paths agree that it is better to die almost any other death than to fall into the clutches of the mind flayers._

-From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

"In depths of… In lightless depths… 'Mid earthen realms and broken…" Charinda hummed quietly for a moment, "Grey shadow went stalking/ 'Mid earthen realms and broken teeth/ With fury its eyes gleaming," she sang a wordless series of notes, the sound echoing throughout the deserted corridors surround Hal'carnasas.

Her songs had kept her sane in her bondage, particularly during the first years. And should she ever escape it would be useful to have a chronicles of her adventurers. One that might even gain popularity in the courts of the matron mothers.

She smirked at those thoughts but allowed herself to spin a few more lines,

"Blood-stained the claws/ Of vile death / Grey shadow came…"

The cleric and the telepath were gliding across the broken ground ahead of her. Since the dark elf wasn't a part of their telepathic communication they had ignored her thus far. Now Zygensine was looking over its shoulder at her with an expression of curiosity (or rather as much as an expression of curiosity that the cephalopod head could display). Maslynrensine glanced at her once, but of course it had heard her sing before.

Charinda fell silent, the blank eyes of the illithid shattering her fantasy of escape. Instead she scanned her surroundings, a corridor familiar to her, one of the main entrances to Hal'carnasas. The bard had a good eye for detail and she knew every stalagmite and stalactite in the tunnel.

This was why she was the first to notice that something was wrong.

"Wait, wait," she called out.

As the illithids paused and turned towards her she was darting to the wall, running her hands over it. The cool and smooth sensation on her palm, confirmed her location. She moved her hand, revealing the vein of quartz she knew to be there.

The lighter stone formed an almost perfect circle on the wall. She knew it as one of her landmarks, denoting the boundaries of Hal'carnasas.

She took one step left, past the marker and towards the aberrations. She paused but finding nothing she took a few more, bringing her to the level of the mind flayers,

"Still nothing," she murmured softly.

_What nonsense is this? _The illithid cleric shook its octopus-like head, _Maslynrensine, I am beginning to think that you have allowed your thrall too much liberty._

_If the female does not explain herself then measures will be taken I can assure you._

Charinda felt the ulitharid's impatience and anger. She did not want to test the limits of the telepath, especially if crossing them meant she was likely to end up as a meal.

"I remember this corridor, the boundaries of Hal'carnasas lie here," she made a sweeping gesture taking in the quartz marker and the space between it and her. She couldn't help the grand motion, she was a bard after all, "and we're close to the outpost. So close in fact that we should be in range of the elder brain."

The illithids hissed. They had just come to the same conclusion as she had.

The elder brains were stationary, confined to their pools but their mighty psionic abilities had tremendous scope. In this span the elder brain's presence was noticeable to sentient creatures – a tangible presence in the back of the mind and a comforting sensation to illithids.

At this distance the presence was faint, though still palpable.

But there was nothing, no mental mummer, not even a whisper.

_Maslynrensine, can you teleport us back?_

_Not all of us, not under my own power,_ the ulitharid drew a wand of intricately carved jet from a loop on its belt, _I can only get us all to the outskirts, even with this._

_It is enough,_ the cleric raised its hand and touched the smooth stone.

Charinda joined the two aberrations, the jet of the wand (no, not a wand, a dorje, or so the crystal in her head said) cool beneath her fingers. The silvery orbs of the telepath closed as it concentrated.

The tiny group vanished.

* * *

At first Charinda thought she smelt the great pots of the nutrient-rich illithid stew that they fed to the thralls. But as she opened her eyes she realised what she smelt was burnt flesh. She clapped her hands over her nose and her mouth, bile rising in her throat as she took in the devastation before her.

The wide streets and spacious plazas were lined with bodies. Apart from a sprinkling of illithids they were all thralls. In Hal'carnasas this meant that they mainly orcs, minotaurs and umber hulks with the occasional troll and giant.

Their bodies were completely broken. They'd simply been torn apart, a hideous show of strength. Others had flesh fully burnt away to show the bone underneath.

Maslynrensine had given the thralls little attention and was gliding deeper into the outpost, stepping over the corpses with no regard. The cleric was close behind, its head fixed in the direction of the temple of Ilsensine.

The drow followed, jogging to keep up with the ulitharid's longer strides. Her mind kept going to the bodies – which lay in great droves as far as she could see. The sheer numbers of the dead were staggering. It looked like the entire thrall army of Hal'carnasas had fallen.

The devastation was not limited to the outskirts. In fact, as they left the street and entered the open square it seemed to be worse.

Charinda's gaze settled on the arena, where she had fought less than a day before. A terrible force, psionic or otherwise, had torn up entire tiers of seats and flung them across the plaza. Something she could only describe as paste showed where they'd been used as a makeshift but highly effective weapon. It would have taken tremendous telekinetic force and the bard assumed it had been the Hal'carnasasians that had done it.

The doors to the thrall barracks had been flung open and the smell of blood and cooked meat told the trio what had happened. They passed the broken walls with their gaping holes with no real attention, fixated on what lay ahead.

They found the Hal'carnasasians in the centre of the outpost, arranged around the domed structure that housed the elder brain. It had been the scene of their last stand.

Charinda wondered why the aberrations hadn't fled, as they were wont to do when their lives were in danger. Surely after the devastation wrought on a thrall army with the full support of an elder brain and the illithid population they would have realised they had no chance of victory. Perhaps they'd believed otherwise. Perhaps they simply weren't able to escape.

Zygensine knelt closer to the bodies, its symbol of Ilsensine in one hand. Looking at the corpses Charinda doubted that here would be anything the cleric could do. She recognised certain illithids… or rather parts of certain illithids. A head with a distinctive scar or a missing tentacle. An arm still in an elaborately styled sleeve.

The aberrations had shared the same fate as their thralls.

* * *

Maslynrensine looked calm. It was an illithid trait, to almost completely internalise emotion. Yet at this moment the psion was finding this difficult. Inside the ulitharid was raging.

Its home was only an outpost, tiny compared to the great city of Oryndoll. But it still supported over forty illithids and the slave population was many, many times that. Its isolation from other major populations had not bred lethargy, the thralls were battle ready and mental defences and psionic traps were set in radius of four miles in any direction.

Yet something has torn through its home and its lesser kin like they were nothing!

The ulitharid took no notice of the fallen illithids. Instead it glided straight towards the elder brain's dwelling.

This too had not escaped harm. The four arches that led inside were battered and cracked. Scorch marks, both from the attackers and the psionic traps that laced the structure, marked the floor and the walls. The barriers of simmering force and the invisible psionic ones were still standing in two of the arches. But the other two had failed.

Maslynrensine levitated over the ravaged steps, where potent acids still ate into the stone, and entered.

There was a long moment of silence. Then a telepathic scream echoed across the cavern and dead Hal'carnasas shook with the ulitharid's fury.

* * *

As soon as Charinda heard her master's howl of rage she knew what had happened. The crystal in her head told her where the ulitharid was and the answer only confirmed her suspicions. She leapt up the acid-eaten steps to the elder brain's sanctuary.

Maslynrensine was kneeling on the floor. Its attention was taken up with what an outsider would have thought was nothing more than a large piece of meat. But Charinda knew better.

Like the rest of its kind the elder brain of Hal'carnasas spent all its time in a wide pool of briny fluid. This pool was now empty, except for a few torn pieces of grey matter.

The elder brain had been hauled from its home, no easy task considering it had been at least ten feet across and heavy with centuries of absorbed mind flayer brains and that was before taking into account its formidable mental powers. Like its subjects the elder brain had been torn apart, but unlike the thralls and illithids this had not been a crude show of strength.

Something… someone had carefully cut the elder brain open.

What made the Hal'carnasasian elder brain different from the norm was that it had cultivated a tough, armour-like skin, protecting the softer brain matter within. This had not saved it. A neat cross shape had been made in the dense flesh and the four flaps had been pinned back neatly.

_It is hollow,_ Zygensine had reappeared and was leaning heavily against the wall, its blank, white eyes fixed on the elder brain.

Charinda took a step to the side. Looking around Maslynrensine's body she could see that the cleric had spoken the truth. The inside of the elder brain was empty – the brain matter was gone.

She glanced around. Apart from a few strips of flesh that must have been torn from the aberration when it was being moved there was no sign of the rest of the elder brain.

"The attackers… must have taken it with them," the drow shook her head, "But why. And _how_?"

_I have found something t__hat further complicates matters,_ the cleric glided across the floor towards the ulitharid, _something that renders the attackers' motive even more uncertain._

Maslynrensine said or did nothing for a long moment. Then the aberration got to its feet, its robe stained with encephalic fluid,

_Show me._

The cleric nodded and turned back the way it had come, towards the temple of Ilsensine. Charinda made to follow them but something caught her eye. She went carefully across the floor, the tiles were slick with brine and blood and she nearly fell several times. Eventually she reached the edge of the pool unscathed.

Its surface was dark and the briny fluid was tainted with another oil-like substance. The drow frowned, leaning closer for a better look. There appeared to be another layer, above the surface of the brine. Finally she dipped her gloved hand into the pool, bringing up a palm-full of liquid… and something else.

With a noise of disgust she shook her hand free on the clinging substance. But her findings had given her something to think about…

She strode out of the former home of the elder brain. She didn't take the route to the temple, however, but instead she headed for a small, low building set partly into the cavern floor. Hopefully she would find some answers here.

* * *

The temple of Ilsensine was separated from the rest of the outpost by a wall of marble, covered with Qualith script and reaching all the way to the cavern ceiling. The gates were torn from their hinges and the floor and walls bore the marks of fire, acid and psionic force, signs that the traps had been set off.

Zygensine led the ulitharid down a long, curving corridor, carved with representations of Ilsensine and the illithids ruling over the various races of the Underdark and the surface. Finally they entered the main chapel.

What drew the telepath's eye first was what had been piled onto the floor. It was a great heap of treasure. As the ulitharid drew closer it could pick out a few pieces that looked familiar. In fact, there was a circlet of iron that it had left in its quarters. But the elaborate coils were battered out of shape, so much so that the whole thing had been rendered useless.

Every single piece of treasure was broken. Delicate crystal spheres had been reduced to glittering shards. Dorjes and power stones, ranging from ordinary marble and granite to beautifully carved rubies and sapphires, were no more than glittering powder now. Even magical weapons, bestowed on favoured thralls had been placed in the pile, but not before being completely ruined.

_This is the combined wealth of Hal'carnasas! Why did the attackers do this?_ it touched the surface of psicrown, forged of pure silver and set with a single diamond, _Even if they had no psionic talents to use these items, the raw materials alone…_ The ulitharid shook its head, lost for words.

_They were here not so long ago,_ the cleric stalked across the chapel. A single illithid corpse was sprawled out on the floor. Its head was smashed into a bloody pulp but when Zygensine telekinetically lifted the body, a symbol of Ilsensine swung from its neck, _How long ago was it since we sent R'itat back? No more than an hour at most?_

_But what does that mean for Hal'carnasas? I refu__se to believe that our army could succumb to anything less than an opposing force many times the size. But there was no sign of such a passage in the tunnels. There are no bodies of the attackers; at least nothing that we can use to discern their identity, _Maslynrensine looked up, at where the statue of Ilsensine had stood. It assumed that the sculpture now lay at the bottom of the broken heap.

_We were not hunting for any great length of time… The bodies are hours old at most._

The aberrations fell silent.

There was a click of boot heels on the stone floor and Charinda appeared. She was also drawn to the broken treasures immediately and she swore softly under her breath.

"Is there any clue? Isn't there an imprint? Five years ago, I saw illithids use psionics to determine what had happened days ago in a particular location."

_If it were possible do you think it would not have been done, little __thrall? It is impossible to do so here. Too much psionic energy makes the imprint unstable. Our dying elder brain would have released huge amounts of energy into the surroundings. Trying to discern what had happened would be useless; all that I would see and hear would be wordless emotion, dying minds. Nothing coherent._

The drow fell silent for a moment more,

"I know something about the attackers. They know something about illithids. I went to the birthing chambers. There was a host body there, nearly completely human. Nothing would have given it away, but they destroyed it anyway. They were no surfacer paladins then.

"I also took a closer look at the elder brain's pool. There was something floating on the surface. It was the tadpoles: all the tadpoles were dead. I think they added poison to the fluid."

_Could they have killed the elder brain with poison then? Or at least weakened it?_

_No,_ Charinda scowled as she felt the telepath withdrew from the drow's mind, _it was added afterwards. Otherwise there would have been traces of the poison on the elder brain's remains, _it frowned deeply, _which means that they did not wish to damage the elder brain. They needed the flesh untainted. But for what purpose?_

_An experiment?_

The ulitharid snarled wordlessly and telepathically, _For what? What could be worth so much as to risk open battle with Hal'carnasas?_

Maslynrensine took in the shattered wealth of its home; R'itat's broken body; Zygensine, its lesser kin; Charinda, its thrall,

_The motives do not matter at this moment. All that is important is that unknown attackers have risen up against their superiors. They have spat in face of their betters and torn apart centuries of work, __millennia of tradition and research._

_You wish for revenge?_

_I wish to see them humbled and humiliated. I will make these attackers serve as the lowliest of thralls. I will tear apart their skulls_, it gestured to the walls, to the religious murals that decorated them, _I will take their secrets along with their minds and offer them to Ilsensine itself. They will be left as empty husks._

_Against an army? One that did this? You are strong Maslynrensine, but you are young. Understand that you can do little against a force of this size, _the older illithid abruptly gave a gurgle of amusement, _Maslynrensine, we do not even know the composition of this force, let alone its size._

_There are subtler ways, better ways than __wading through thralls, _the ulitharid had not appeared to have heard, _I will be satisfied with those that led the attack. I will be sated finally, when I have those who ordered it._

It turned back to Zygensine,

_I have already considered our lack of knowledge. We shall leave Hal'carnas__as and take the main road to the nearest city or population that may have conducted business with the invaders. There we will buy or steal information regarding any large forces spotted in the area recently._

"What is the nearest city?" the drow guide asked. She'd been brought to Hal'carnasas by teleportation twelve years ago and, for obvious reasons, her master had never told her exactly where the outpost was.

_The __drow city known as Ched Nasad._

Charinda's eyes widened. A lot of her work had come from the great drow metropolises and she knew the City of Shimmering Webs well. The bard had no allegiance to the Queen of Spiders, nor to any drow city but the idea that she'd soon be walking among others of her own kind was blissful.

There was something even better awaiting her there. For she knew that amidst the great streets of calcified webbing was a chapter house of the Guild of Underdark Guides and possibly her freedom.


	5. Chapter Four: Memory

**Chapter Four – ****Memory**

_In addition to the tasks they perform, thralls provide another service to their masters.__ Illithids have a need to dominate lesser creatures and take great pride in the quantity and quality of their own personal thralls. An illithid with an especially valuable or exotic thrall enjoys great prestige among its peers, while an illithid without thralls is considered weak and incompetent._

- From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

_Charinda Elvanisstra stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She automatically went to rub at her eyes with her hand but the appendage stopped short. Her head rolled to the side and she saw that her long-fingered hand was caught in a steel cuff which was in turn held down by several loops of chain._

_For a moment all the bard could do was blink stupidly at it. Her every thought came slowly and her head felt as though it were stuffed with rothé wool. Something… something had rattled her wits._

_Abruptly she remembered and she couldn't suppress a moan of despair._

_The illithid… no, the ulitharid had released her from her paralysis. As soon as her feet had touched the floor she'd sprung at it._

_It did not matter that her mouth had still been clamped shut. It did not matter that the aberration was nearly nine feet tall. She wanted to hurt it, to make it pay for her wounded pride and her guild's reputation, soiled by the loss of seven clients._

_She was fast – her hand in its metal cuff had brushed the ulitharid's robe but it reacted. But that had not been fast enough._

_That was all she knew. The rest of it was a blank in her memory and she was thankful for that small mercy. Presumably the ulitharid had used some sort of mental attack. The bard did not want to remember that._

_There were many races in the Underdark into whose clutches a traveller did not want to fall. Her own people were one of them. There were grimlocks and kuo-toas and derro and orog, to name but a few. But it was widely held that the tender mercies of any of those races were far preferable to that of the mind flayers._

_She shook her head briskly from side-to-side. All of this was irrelevant right now._

"_Focus on the now. Get yourself out of here first," she told herself firmly._

_Hearing it said out loud helped. With renewed determination she started to analyse the situation._

_Admittedly the situation appeared to be quite dire. For one thing, she had none of her equipment with her. By craning her head she could see that even her clothing was absent. Instead she was wearing a grey tunic, little more than a large rectangle of cloth folded over her and done up by ties along one side._

_The dark elf shifted her head again. She was chained to a flat stone slab in a large room. Long workbenches were placed against the walls, their surfaces covered with unsettling equipment._

_She frowned, noticing some else that was wrong. To crane her head her skull had to brush her thin arm. By the feel of it her close-cropped hair was gone and her head had been shaved completely smooth._

_Charinda was puzzling over this latest development when she heard footsteps approaching. She looked across__ at the large entrance._

_The archway was tall enough so that the ulitharid did not have to bend to enter the room. It glided into the room, followed by an orc with dead eyes and a tray balanced carefully in its hands. The Underdark Guide shuddered at the sight of the thrall._

_The thrall walked to her side and laid the tray on the slab. It bowed once to the aberration and left the room. It didn't watch its slave go. Instead its silvery eyes were fixed on Charinda as it loomed over her prone form._

_From this position the mind flayer looked even taller. The drow glared up at it._

I had feared that you would require additional correction, thrall, and my suspicions were proved correct. Assaulting me as soon as I removed your paralysis was foolish.

_It was a mind reader after all, thought the bard, it would have known she was going to do it._

Indeed,_ said the ulitharid, replying to the thoughts it had picked up from her, _and attempting to attack one trained in the telepath discipline is doubly ill-advised.

_It leant in closer, its tentacles hanging a hair's-breath from her face,_

Whenever one such as yourself undergoes punishment from those such as I and my lesser kin we often find that the event has been erased from the conscious mind. My race has done much research into this phenomenon and we have ancient texts that analyse and evaluate such reflexes.

_It was bad enough that she had to be held here, thought Charinda, but to be held her by a scholar who loved the sound of his own telepathic voice and words as long as his own name… The bard surprised herself by bursting into hysterical, if somewhat muffled, laughter. It only increased as she realised she'd forgotten its fucking name! The feel of slimy flesh on hers stopped her laughter, turning them into muffled chokes and whimpers._

This occurrence is also one that my kin encounter,_ tentacles slithered around the drow's shaved head as the ulitharid continued in a casual tone, _and my name is Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas. Not that you shall be referring to me as such. I told you that you will call me Master.

Not fucking likely!

_Charinda expected a burst of pain from the psion. Instead it straightened, taking its tentacles from her head and replaced them with a three-fingered hand._

Would you like to see what I did to you?

_Immediately images flooded the dark elf's mind. She saw, as if she were a bystander, her thin __form lunge towards Maslynrensine. She saw her body being flung backwards without any visible effort from the ulitharid, crumpling against the wall. She saw the psion turn with infinite grace and patience and its arm extend towards her._

_Her body jerked away from the wall, sprawling out onto the floor. She did not remain motionless, however, but instead her limbs began jerking and shuddering as though she was in the throes of some sort of seizure. Her eyes rolled up into her skull, the whites shining against her dark skin._

_She screamed wordlessly. She called for help in a dozen languages. She called for friends. She called for her mother. And all the while the ulitharid loomed over her convulsing form, watching her with no visible emotion._

_As the bard came back to the present she was ashamed to find that she was crying. Tears of shame and of remembered pain ran down her cheeks and over the smooth metal of her mouth gag._

_She forced herself to stop crying and looked around for the ulitharid. It had its back to her, calmly taking items from various drawers and placing them on its tray. Finally it gestured and a wand levitated into its hand as it glided back to Charinda's side._

I informed you of my intentions to perform an experiment. I also informed you that you are the subject.

_It set the tray back on the slab and placed the wand next to it. Charinda could not see or touch the magical item so she had no chance of divining its function. She was soon distracted._

_The ulitharid was undoing the ties that held her tunic closed. It made short work of the loose knots and the bard shuddered as the chill air hit her naked skin.__ The other half of the cloth was pulled out from underneath her and tossed aside._

_Had her mouth been unclamped she would have screamed as Maslynrensine's two longer tentacles ghosted across her dark flesh. She'd heard rumours and bar tales and the occasional filthy joke about this but she'd never actually believed… The bard cursed her vivid imagination and screwed her eyes shut._

_A gurgle, unmistakeably of disgust, escaped the psion's throat and its tentacles froze where they lay, one across her flat stomach and the other across her almost-equally flat chest._

This experiment,_ the revulsion was apparent in the ulitharid's telepathic voice, _has nothing to do with the reproduction process. Neither yours nor mine.

_The aberration's tentacles slid off her and it turned to the tray, regaining its composure as it took the first instrument in its slender fingers._

_Charinda's blood ran cold. In the ulitharid's hand was a thin silver blade, a scalpel._

This experiment is, by necessity, bloody, _it_ _examined the edge of the tool,_ I could deactivate the pain receptors in your brain. Perhaps I would even allow you to be unconscious for the duration. It is a simple matter. For one such as I, it would require only the application of psychic energy to key areas of the mind. The alternative, of course, is that you remain aware during the procedure. I can easily hold you immobile and I may gain an insight into the workings of the mind and of pain.

_The dark elf was frozen. If was as if the ulitharid had already paralysed her with its psionics. Her eyes flicked rapidly from its cephalopod head to the scalpel in its fingers._

Of course, I could conduct an additional experiment. A test, shall we say, of your pride verses your sense of self preservation.

_It glided across to her, its face once again an inch from hers._

I shall disable your pain receptors. I shall keep you unconscious for the entire process. But to do so you must ask for it and you will refer to me as Master.

* * *

Charinda jolted out of her Reverie. Her dark skin was clammy with sweat and her hands trembled as she brushed her hair out of her face.

It wasn't fair. She was supposed to be able to select which memories she viewed in Reverie. Yet time and time again her mind returned to that memory – an experience akin to prodding at an open sore. She scanned the room. Several times before she awoken from Reverie to find the ulitharid hovering nearby, riding her mind and watching her dreams unfold.

She sighed in relief. The ulitharid was asleep.

Maslynrensine's cold promises of revenge did not change the fact that leaving ruined Hal'carnasas immediately was impossible. The Underdark was a dangerous place. Even mind flayers were only one of many different hostile and deadly predators. The trio lacked equipment – they had only small amounts of food and water with them. After all, they had not considered that the outpost would lie in ruins when they returned from a short hunting trip.

The hunt for the illithid vampire had drained their personal resources too. Maslynrensine needed rest to regain its psionic powers – the numerous teleportations (even with the assistance of the now-extinguished dorje) had taken the bulk of its strength. Zygensine had to pray to its dark deity to regain its spells. Charinda had the least amount of preparation – a few hours of Reverie to rest her voice and little time to study her scant handful of Underdark Guide spells.

The trio had slept in the temple. It had been built straight into the cavern walls of Hal'carnasas and had been strengthened by generations of clerics and their thralls. It was the least damaged building in the whole outpost.

Charinda had spent an uncomfortable night on the floor. She was used to ill treatment after twelve years as a thrall but she still couldn't suppress a certain amount of jealousy towards the two aberrations. Zygensine had simply retired to its own chambers. Even the beds of the lesser priests were generous enough so that Maslynrensine could fit its larger form into one.

It was sprawled across the bed, silvery orbs closed. Its longer tentacles hung over the side, twitching occasionally.

The drow shuddered and padded out of the room.

* * *

In the depths of the temple it was possible to pretend nothing had happened. A city of beings who communicated by telepathy was normally quiet. You couldn't smell the burning flesh or the acids in the curving corridors.

Charinda wondered briefly it that could be a reason why the illithids chose to rest here but then discarded those thoughts, getting straight to the task at hand. She entered the chapel – her mind on practical concerns. If they were to be entering civilisation then they would need a ready source of funds. The outside world did not work on the complex bartering that had occurred in Hal'carnasas.

She knelt at the foot of the heap of broken wealth. Her long hands and cunning fingers picked through the mess looking for coins, undamaged gems and even the longer pieces of broken gold, silver and other precious metals. With periodic glances towards the entrance she placed the choice pieces into the pouches at her waist. She kept as quiet as possible – the better to hear the whisper of cloth on stone.

The bard did not know for sure what the illithid's reaction would be if they caught her amongst their kin's treasure. She did not particularly want to find out.

Perhaps she could appeal to the aberrations' logic or…

The crystal in her head stirred and she froze with half a circlet in her hands. Her master was awake and summoning her.

Charinda turned towards the archway, the circlet vanishing into her pouch. Her hand remained protectively on the tough leather as she lightly jogged to her master's side.

* * *

Of all the survivors of Hal'carnasas it was Maslynrensine, to its fury, who was the worse off. Its luxurious quarters had been utterly ransacked and partly demolished. It had had some small hope that its library had been spared. It had not seen any books on the collection of broken treasures. But the huge study was ankle-deep in torn paper and parchment and smashed clay and stone tablets.

Even the hidden room behind the bookcase, where its personal arsenal, certain prized tomes and magical items were stored, had been found and raided.

The greatest indignity was the fate of its wardrobe. It lifted another robe from the floor and briefly examined it before casting it aside. Its elaborate robes were tattered and ruined. The intricate decorations, many of them featuring precious metals and jewels as befitting its position, had been ripped from the cloth and were no doubt somewhere in the vast heap of broken wealth.

The ulitharid had only two things to console itself with. Firstly, it was going to take its vengeance upon these attackers and secondly, it had taken its rightful place as the leader of this enterprise.

With the death of the elder brain there was a void of power. It fell to one of the two remaining Hal'carnasasians to lead. Zygensine had age and experience on its side – it had, after all, been present at the telepath's birth. Offsetting its youth, Maslynrensine had power and its birthright as an ulitharid, a noble illithid and leader of its lesser kin.

Zygensine's unwavering faith in the God Brain, the mighty Ilsensine, leant it great power. But its faith made it willing to stand down in favour of the psion. The idea of being led by an ulitharid was natural in its mind. After all, was not the exalted Lugribossk, proxy of the great and terrible Ilsensine, said to be an ulitharid?

Maslynrensine allowed itself a moment to bask it the satisfaction this gave it.

Something touched the ulitharid's mind and the telepath jerked in surprise. Automatically it groped for the trespasser but it had been only the briefest and weakest touch – no telepath could have established a full connection with only that. It was only with its immense talents that Maslynrensine could brush the intruder intelligence, gaining even less contact than the trespasser would have had with itself and learning nothing.

Silvery orbs closed as the psion prepared to throw out its intelligence, a net to ensnare whoever was wandering dead Hal'carnasas.

A scream spoiled the manifestation, a telepathic cry of agony. Abandoning its first plan, Maslynrensine activated a teleportation manifestation, sending itself towards the only being capable of producing such a cry.

* * *

Charinda's jog turned into a full sprint when she heard the telepathic shriek. The githyanki bone was torn from its straps and she held it tightly as she emerged from the temple compound.

At first she could only see Zygensine, standing amongst the corpses of its fellow illithids. Darkness played at its feet, vanishing into the stone and she wondered whether it was a side-effect of one of its clerical spells.

She was quickly rid of that notion.

The cleric illithid staggered on its feet. Its robes were torn and the flesh beneath it…

It was split wide open, the details lost amid the torrent of blood. Weakly, the illithid's hands were groping, trying to reclaim the slippery loops of entrails that were escaping its thin frame. Abruptly it was flung across the field of bodies, landing on it back with another mental scream of pain, this one echoed by a guttural moan that escaped its throat.

Standing amidst the corpses, in a position that would have been side-on to the illithid cleric was a slender robed figure. He turned towards Charinda and she saw the wide, twisted grin on his face as the dark elf thrust a slender wand at her and spoke the command word.

* * *

**Jessi:** Da-dum-dum! My first _Doctrine _cliff hanger! Don't worry though, the next chapter shall be written and up shortly. Oh, and if anyone was confused by the first section of the chapter it was in italics because it was a "dream" (though as it is Reviere it is an actual memory which actually happened) which meant that all telepathy had to be in normal font. I'm sorry if it confused anyone.


	6. Chapter Five: Cleric

**Chapter Five – Cleric**

_How an elder brain comes to be is unknown. Even to the mind flayers, an elder brain is timeless and ageless. It is an amorphous, writhing bulk of tissue, the conglomeration of cast-off brain matter from deceased mind flayers. When a mind flayer dies, its brain is removed ceremonially and cast into the pool, whereupon it sinks to the bottom to be absorbed into the greater mass. This melding of an individual's brain into the communal elder brain is a fate to which mind flayers aspire; they do not fear or regret their passing. If anything, they fear a death that prevents them from becoming part of the elder brain._

- From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

Lightning surged from the wand. Charinda darted desperately to one side. The enemy drow's attack missed, but barely. Instead it struck the twisted temple gates. Blue sparks flew from the metal and arcs of electricity played amid the bars.

She stretched out her long limbs and ran. Her pace quickened as she heard the command word barked once more. The lightning struck closer. Her hair crackled and writhed in its aftermath.

Charinda began a spell, the first line echoing through the empty city. But as the third command word was spoken she tripped, tumbling onto the hard stone and the soft, broken corpses. Her song was broken and all she could do was roll further away from her assailant's attack.

This time it struck so close that a metallic order and taste filled her nose and mouth. A corpse, the torso and head of an illithid, was struck directly and was given a jittering semblance of life.

She attempted to stand but her foot was caught in a tangle of chains at an awkward angle. The metal was attached to a wide leather band that circled an illithid corpse's waist and as much as she twisted and pulled she could not break free.

She thought of her githyanki bone and the adamantine blades contained within. It had fallen out of her hands when she tripped and she hurriedly looked for it amid the corpses. Her assailant was drawing closer and the sound of his footsteps served to hasten her motions.

Her weapon was standing upright, wedged between two broken cadavers. Charinda reached for it, trying to drag herself closer. Her fingertips did not even touch the smooth surface.

The male drow's face split from ear-to-ear in a wide and disturbing grin. The wand was pointed directly at the scrambling bard.

The male drow shuddered, his wand falling from suddenly nerveless fingers. Maslynrensine stepped from thin air, tentacles writhing. But, whether from the innate dark elf resistance to hostile spells and manifestations or from some feat of will, its opponent seemed to shake off the mind blast and recover. He thrust a hand out at the ulitharid and barked out another command word.

Fire roared into existence and Charinda bit back a cry as the flames engulfed the aberration. She needed it to continue fighting, lest the mage decide to finish her off. She seized the corpse to which she was attached and heaved it closer. Inch by inch she drew closer to her weapon, one eye always on the conflagration where the ulitharid had stood.

Her worry was ill spent. The psion stepped out of the flames unharmed, a few solitary sparks playing across the surface of its psionic protection.

The male drow snarled in frustration and began another spell, its gestures a blur. Maslynrensine did not allow him to complete the spell. It did not appear to act but the dark elf screamed and broke of its gesturing to clutch at his head.

Charinda winced. She'd been on the receiving of that particular attack many times. But there was no sympathy in her heart from her assailant and she swept her blade in a smooth arc, the adamantine cutting the chains easily. Taking up its twin she stalked towards the magic-user.

Her master appeared to have ended the fight. While their opponent had still been reeling Maslynrensine had immobilised the male totally, his limbs frozen by his sides and his mouth locked into a grimace. The paralysed drow had then been lifted telekinetically up to the ulitharid's eye level.

_You have been defeated__. Your mind is mine,_ the psion's mental voice was calm.

Charinda was close enough now to see the fury in the drow's eyes –another familiar occurrence to her. What happened next, however, was not.

There came from the male drow's mouth a sickening crunch. His limbs began trembling, only slightly, a nearly indiscernible motion. The bard turned to the ulitharid, wondering what the aberration was doing but it looked as confused as she was. As she watched it furrowed its brow in concentration and the trembling appeared to stop as Maslynrensine increased the pressure on its captive.

It worked only for a second. There came a crack, echoing loudly in the silent outpost. One of the magic user's arms had broken, unable to take the forces playing on its body – the paralysis of the ulitharid and its own juddering body.

The aberration released the paralysis. After all, the next bone to break could be the male's neck and it needed a live captive to question. It continued to hold him up telekinetically.

Freed of the psion's manifestation the drow's limbs began to thrash violently. Abruptly he froze, so suddenly that Charinda thought the ulitharid had paralysed him again. Foam began to appear from the dark elf's lips and there came another crunch, this one louder with the undeniable sound of tearing flesh. The magic user jerked one final time and was still.

* * *

Maslynrensine dropped the body, snarling in anger. For one brief and glorious moment its vengeance had been within its grasp. The male dark elf would have succumbed to the aberration's superior mind and all his secrets would have been laid bare in front of it. It had already been preparing to subdue and enter the magic user's mind before this apparent fit.

Its thrall was kneeling beside its fallen opponent, reaching out to feel his neck but the ulitharid already knew what she would find. The male was dead. Its only lead was dead.

The discipline of telepathy focussed on the minds of the living. Psionic power came from the living energy of the mind, from the very font of life itself. The Invisible Art was the purest and the mightiest of disciplines. It could hold the body in suspended animation or send it to its doom. It could trap the mind in a false reality of its own creation or twist the very fabric of the universe itself. But Maslynrensine knew of no power than could contact the dead.

Only one source of power conferred such a capability. Only one Hal'carnasasian had the capacity for such.

Maslynrensine turned and glided across to Zygensine. It had no hope that the cleric would be in any shape to perform such magic. It could feel the older illithid's mind fading.

Considering the condition Zygensine was in it was incredible that it was still alive. But its entrails hung about it in glossy coils and the only movements it was making were weak tentacle twitches. It would not be long now.

And when Zygensine did die it would be gone forever. There would be no reward for its faithful service to Hal'carnasas. The Hal'carnasasian elder brain was destroyed and the experiences, the memories and the personality of Zygensine would not be preserved forever with those that had gone before.

Though the ulitharid would have never admitted such a thing, even to itself, it too feared being left here to rot instead of living on as part of the elder brain.

A single blank-white eye opened and Zygensine's tentacles reached out for the ulitharid. Begging for aid that it could not give? Maslynrensine did not know – the cleric was beyond telepathy at this stage – and it had no healing magic. What could it…

The aberration's own blank eyes widened. In the depths of its brilliant mind a plan was forming.

* * *

Charinda jumped when her master suddenly burst into motion, its gaze falling onto her. She was abruptly pulled forward by its telekinesis. When she'd been drawn into range of the ulitharid's arms she was seized roughly and shoved down by the dying cleric's side.

_Heal it. Now._

The dark elf glanced at the wound, at the loops of intestine that decorated the area. She doubted that even an actual cleric could do any good here. The bard looked back at the psion, surprised to see only its back as it stalked back across the courtyard,

"I can't save it!"

_You are not expected to save it. Merely keep it alive__._

The ulitharid did not stop. Charinda turned back to the fading illithid, placing her hands gingerly on one of the last places of untouched flesh. Her golden eyes closed and she began to sing, the pure sound echoing through the empty city.

* * *

Maslynrensine found what it needed in the ruin of the temple laboratory. Miraculously it had escaped harm. The attackers must have missed it or must have discarded it, not divining its purpose. The reason for its survival would never be known nor was it important at this time. Instead the ulitharid strode back to the courtyard, cradling the copper urn with the greatest of caution.

* * *

Charinda kept on singing, focusing on infusing every perfect note with healing magic. It was harder than usual. The illithid's mind kept intruding onto hers, filling it, not with words or anything articulate, but with the incoherent and wordless emotions and thoughts of a dying mind.

The bard supposed that it was struggling against her efforts. With every line she was prolonging its agony, refusing to let it slip into a painless oblivion. Ordinarily she never would have done this. Not when there was no hope that she could succeed. It was an accepted fact in the wilderness of the Underdark you could not save everyone, that some had to be let go so that others could live.

But she continued anyway. Maslynrensine had ordered it and she feared the penalty for failing the ulitharid.

_Continue until I __stipulate otherwise._

The ulitharid was back, sinking to its knees on the other side of Zygensine, fastidiously shifting a coil of intestine. It held in its hands a copper urn and it set that down beside the cleric's head. The lid of the urn had a large lock of gleaming metal.

Charinda watched as Maslynrensine focussed on the lock. The tumblers rattled, opening with the application of psionic force and the ulitharid opened the urn carefully.

It was filled with liquid, though what liquid it was the bard was unable to say. It shed a soft blue glow that shone on the polished copper and highlighted the psion's cephalopod head as it turned to Zygensine. The ulitharid closed its eyes, holding its tentacles utterly still.

_Ilsensine, God Brain of the illithid race, you teach us that we are meant to dominate the world below and the world above. Great and terrible Ilsensine, you teach __us that knowledge is the highest commodity, the greatest weapon that we possess in our goal of domination. I am an ulitharid, your most blessed and exalted kin, named Maslynrensine for you Ilsensine, mightiest of the elder brains. I beseech you for success in what I am about to do, in your name, Ilsensine, for knowledge, preserved against death, illuminated by your blessed darkness._

Maslynrensine opened its silvery orbs and lowered its tentacles,

_Cease healing._

Charinda obeyed, breathing hard. The ulitharid ignored her, lifting Zygensine closer, one hand cradling the cleric's neck, the other gripping its shoulder.

The tentacles dove in with horrific speed and Charinda bit back a short cry. The longest ones were the first, plunging through the scalp and towards the brain. The four normal tentacles were only seconds behind. With a sickening tear of flesh, Maslynrensine pulled back its head, coming away with its prize. The brain of Zygensine was clutched in its tentacles.

Carelessly releasing the decerebrated corpse, the ulitharid took the brain in its hands, lowering it gently into the copper urn. The liquid completely covered the brain matter and the ulitharid nodded as if satisfied. It closed the lid, cutting off the eerie blue glow.

"What… what was that?"

Maslynrensine turned to her, its hands stained with dark blood. It often ignored her questions about illithid culture but this one it deigned to answer briefly,

_This is a brain canister__._

No more information was imminent it seemed and Maslynrensine turned to its next task. It had brought with it a length of steel chain which it wound many times around the brain canister and through a loop built into the lid. The whole thing was then attached to the ulitharid's belt and the aberration checked several times to make sure it was secure. It then got to its feet.

"Why? Why would you… tear out its brain? Zygensine was your ally! So why?"

The telepath fixed her with a glare and Charinda bit back her outburst, fearing chastisement from the ulitharid.

_Inside here,_ the ulitharid laid a three-fingered hand on the canister, _the brain of Zygensine of Hal'carnasas is preserved indefinitely in an alchemical solution. Though it remains insensible and dormant in this state, the memories and experiences will not be lost. _

_It is the right and it is the obligation of every illithid to merge with the elder brain. If our elder brain is gone then I will bring this mind to another. If the traditions of Hal'carnasas can not be continued then the memory of such will be preserved elsewhere._

The Underdark guide took another glance at Zygensine's corpse and the empty skull. All she could think of was that her master's quest had claimed a life before they'd even left Hal'carnasas. They'd lost an ally and merely gained another task.

And if this was the ultimate fate of the allies of Maslynrensine then Charinda was sure she'd be better off risking the dangers of the wilderness instead.

* * *

**Jessi:** I tried to work on Maslynrensine's character this chapter. While it is true that my ulitharid is an arrogant, foul-tempered genius I also wanted to show it has a great loyalty for and will enforce the illithid traditions it feels it exemplifies.

When I write down all its characteristics like that I wonder why I like Maslynrensine so much. I'm having so much fun writing it at the moment. :D


	7. Chapter Six: Departure

**Chapter Six – Departure**

_Mind flayers have no friends. If an illithid treats a creature of another race as an equal, it is pretending friendship. Other races are useful when they bring information and trade goods. Ultimately, illithids have only two ways of interacting with other races: enslavement and consumption. If an illithid treats a drow or a duergar respectfully (never deferentially), it is doing so only to serve its own purposes._

- From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

Looking back she should have realised sooner. The corridors and tunnels had been virtually empty. There had been none of the vast trade wagons heading to and from the city. For a creature that had spent most of her life living by her wits in the cities and the wilderness both, this was an unforgivable lapse; even the prospect of freedom was not a justifiable excuse.

Charinda Elvanisstra sank slowly to her knees as she gazed upon the ruin that had once been the City of Shimmering Webs.

* * *

_Seven days ago…_

Charinda's throat was raw. She'd hadn't had to keep up a spell-song for a such a lengthy period in quite some time and the effort of infusing music with magic for so long was draining. But she had no desire to rest here.

Even as a thrall she had been relatively safe in Hal'carnasas, depending on the humour of her master at the time. Even without the resident illithid population she thought that the isolation of Hal'carnasas would make the outpost a safe resting place. But the attack by the drow mage had shown her otherwise. Zygensine's death had shown both of them otherwise.

The remaining tasks had to be preformed swiftly and Charinda kept that in mind as she finally undid the last strap and pulled the rothé leather case free of Zygensine's corpse. She traced the symbol of Ilsensine, a stylised illithid head, embossed on the lid and opened it.

A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw that nothing was broken. The dark vials of potion were intact; the individual padded sections of the container had kept them from harm even through the attack on the cleric.

The bard checked to make sure that the parchment tags, labels written in Qualith, were free for ease of use. That done she flipped the lid back over the bottles and deposited the whole thing beside Maslynrensine.

The ulitharid did not move or appear to notice her. It sat on the floor in a space it had cleared of corpses, its silvery eyes closed. It was looking for more attackers, its mind roaming free in a wide radius about the dead outpost. In this state it was particular vulnerable to physical attacks. No illithid would do this without the protection of thralls.

Charinda placed a hand on her weapon. The temptation to plunge one of her wickedly sharp blades into those inhuman, blank orbs was strong. But she remembered the ulitharid's words. Something of it was inside her, something that could react badly to the ulitharid's death. If Charinda wanted to live she had to keep Maslynrensine free from harm. Like a good thrall should.

And it knew all this quite well. This was an intentional part of the grand experiment that had stolen her freedom and twelve years of her life.

The dark elf snarled wordlessly and stalked away from the ulitharid. She took deep breathes trying to calm herself down and applied herself to her next task.

She knelt beside the dead male, the first of her kind she'd seen in three years, the first free example that she'd seen in twelve. It spoke volumes about her luck and the general temperament of her species that he'd tried to kill her.

It didn't help her foul mood that the male was amazingly typical of her kind, with very little to distinguish him. He was both shorter and broader than Charinda, a trait shared by just about every single member of her race she'd ever met. There was no colour in the realms of darkvision but the bard didn't need light to see that his skin was glossy ebony and his hair bone-white.

She cast a spell anyway and summoned a small globe of light to float before her. It only served to confirm her suspicions. Black skin, white hair and blood-red eyes, not even the slightest bit unusual for dark elves. She had hoped that there was some possibility that his tresses were one of the rarer shades, silver or pale yellow, or perhaps even the copper shade that even the well-travelled guide had only seen twice.

She leant over the corpse to look at the other side and had her first piece of luck. Across the right-hand side of his face was a tattoo. The thin red lines would have been difficult to see in darkvision if you knew they were there and almost impossible in you didn't. The bard hoped desperately that he'd been to some city or some place with at least a little light. She reached for the parchment and ink that Maslynrensine had salvaged from its study. With the greatest of care she began to draw the tattoo, concentrating on the elaborate lines of the abstract pattern.

If she didn't find anything on the drow's person then she'd be flashing this parchment under a lot of noses in Ched Nasad. That was assuming that the tattoo had anything to do with an organisation and was not just a personal affection. And that was assuming that he was part of Hal'carnasas' destroyers and not just a treasure hunter with incredible timing.

She sighed again as she finished her drawing. Folding it carefully and placing it inside one of her pouches she started to search the corpse.

No magic came from his robes or his boots and the single magical ring she found was the kind of protective magic available all over the Underdark. The lightning wand he'd used against her was a plain stave of zurkhwood, again amazingly common.

The amulet was another matter. For one thing it had no visible runes or markers that spoke of its origin or purpose. It was made of a dark metal, which Charinda did not recognise, that circled a small, murky globe. Holding it up to the light she discovered that the globe was made of clear glass but filled with liquid that such a deep-green that it was nearly black. Unable to divine its function by examining it, the bard cast a spell on the talisman.

It seemed standard fare. There were spells of protection and a charm that made the wearer more agile. Charinda shrugged and she took the ring, the wand and the necklace back to her master.

* * *

Maslynrensine's mind returned to his body. Allowing itself a moment to adjust, the ulitharid contemplated what it had found.

There was nothing. It had sent its intelligence out into a wide radius around Hal'carnasas but the only mind it had found had been a few vermin, beneath its notice.

It had deduced that, had the dark elf belonged to those who had destroyed its home, then the mage was here as a rearguard. Perhaps, in sending R'itat back, before Zygensine and itself, it had alerted the attackers to the fact that some illithids had escaped the slaughter.

They had made an unwise decision in leaving only a single mage. Though perhaps, thought Maslynrensine, they had simply expected only its lesser kin and not an ulitharid.

It had hoped that others were combing the area around Hal'carnasas. It had hoped that, in teleporting the final stretch to the outpost, that its small group had merely avoided them. But it appeared that the drow mage was the only one and the male was beyond the telepath's ability to interrogate.

It got to its feet, seeing its thrall approach. It reached out to her thoughts, something easily done. By the time the dark elf had reached its side it already knew what she had found. Apparently expecting this, its thrall offered the items without comment.

The ulitharid quickly scanned the items, confirming its drow's opinion. The wand was of arcane origin and so Maslynrensine had no need for it and its own protective talismans were far superior.

It handed them back to the drow who slid the wand into her belt and put the jewellery on. This was good – it would not do for it to lose its only thrall. Its other slaves were gone and the psion did not want to waste the time it had put into this experiment.

It took up the potion case, buckling it around its own waist. Normally it would have given any luggage to its thrall but non-illithids were such irrational creatures. The female might attempt to sabotage the medicines, heedless of the damage she might do to her body by harming its own.

Securing the leather case to its hip Maslynrensine straightened, glancing around the cavern. In the fifty years of its young life it had rarely left Hal'carnasas. For nearly half of that span it had been barely an infant, kept to the confines of the outpost for its own safety while it developed the formidable psionic powers that were its birthright. For the other half it had been busy, cementing its position as a civil leader of Hal'carnasas, just below the elder brain in prominence. It was all for naught now. All its luxuries and prestige had been taken from it.

But it would find those responsible. Maslynrensine's hand dropped to the brain canister. It would fulfil the terms of the oath it had spoken in the Temple of Ilsensine. It would have its revenge and perform its last duty to Hal'carnasas.

Thoughts of retribution fresh in its mind, it dropped its gaze from its surroundings.

_Come, thrall._

Its slave at its heels, Maslynrensine turned its back on its former home and headed out into the wilderness.

* * *

_Present day…_

Charinda dropped the last few feet, shuddering and wiping her hands on her armour, almost unconsciously. Levitation was slow and the bard had spent the journey pressed up against the ulitharid, her thin arms wrapped securely around it. Her master could have easily used telekinesis to bring her down with it but her revulsion at their closeness amused it, overriding its own distaste for being touched.

She shifted to one side as her master finally touched onto solid ground, its hands straightening its robes absently, and its silvery eyes scanning their surroundings.

They stood at the periphery of the great chasm where layers of calcified webbing had once stretched from wall-to-wall. The last time Charinda had been here they had been limed with faerie fire and the streets had been full of trade and life.

She couldn't see to the bottom, it was beyond the range of her darkvision, but she could see along the sides, to where the cavern-wall holdings of noble Houses stood. All were empty, and more than a few appeared ransacked.

"When did this happen?"

The ulitharid glided to the edge, peering at the ruins with a mild interest,

_Nearly two years ago. Ua-hr was here, purchasing slaves and it brought the news to Hal'carnasas. Apparently mercenaries belonging to one of the Houses burnt through the webbing with incendiary devices, causing the collapse._

"Ironic how we leave one ruin to come to another," the drow laughed hollowly, "What are we doing here if you knew of this? How could they have anything to trade in this condition?"

_In the midst of desperation it is often easier to recruit flesh for an army. My studies in the politics of both the surface and the Underdark have shown this,_ the ulitharid paused, _And of course it does not necessarily have to be a voluntary recruitment. We of Hal'carnasas were not the only ones to benefit from the collapse._

"Slaves, I suppose. Ua-hr would have leapt at the opportunity to take slaves at no cost."

_We benefited in the immediate aftermath, yes. It was __also an opportunity to supplement our food stocks for some months._

The bile rose in Charinda's throat. She kept her eyes fixed on the chasm, not trusting herself to look at the psion,

"Brain raids…"

_Their fear was delicious._

The bard clenched her fists and turned away from her master, gritting her teeth when she heard its gurgle of amusement. She could not afford to anger the ulitharid and risk spending precious time recovering from one of its punishments. She had a task of her own to perform.

Her mind remained fixed on only one thing – a simple but elegant building, one which she last saw over twelve years ago. The chapter house of the Guild of Underdark Guides had been in the very centre of the city on one of the main streets of calcified webbing and now it lay destroyed at the bottom of the chasm.

But what of the guides that had staffed it? Were they still here, in Ched Nasad? Were they even still alive?

Or had her bid for freedom been crushed before it had even begun?


	8. Chapter Seven: Information

**Chapter Seven**** – Information**

_Mind flayers gather knowledge in four ways: they purchase it from travelling merchants, steal it directly from the minds of travelling merchants, absorb it from the brains of their victims, or read it from the minds of their captives. None of these methods are ever used in isolation. More than any other race, mind flayers are aware of the way in which faulty perception and personal __interpretation can distort facts. They always seek to verify important information with multiple sources._

- From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

_Five days ago…_

Charinda's long fingers probed the rock face, seeking another handhold. She found one and heaved her body upwards. It took far more effort than it should have and she snarled at herself, trying to induce her climbing to reach greater speeds.

That, of course, failed and she hung grimly onto the stone, craning her head to catch a glimpse of the top. Her relief at the sight of it was indescribable and it succeeded where her anger had not, her limbs moving quicker and smoother than they had done moments before.

This was her third climb of this kind today. Each had been more arduous than the last and they had been only one of many obstacles on the journey. Sheer rock faces, narrow gaps, twisting tunnels and the tight confines of chimneys – all of these had protected the illithid outpost as surely as the psionic traps and the aberrations that populated it.

Protected it until recently, she reminded herself, finally pulling her thin form over the top and collapsing onto the stone. She stopped that line of thought immediately, rolling onto her side to look back down the way she'd come.

After only a few moments her master came into view, levitating its way up the rock face with unhurried grace. The ulitharid touched onto the ground barely a few inches from her and swept onwards with not even a glance towards her.

Maslynrensine didn't slow when it reached the gap – one that even Charinda would have a hard time forcing her gaunt body through. Instead it passed through the wall, its body ghost-like and insubstantial.

The dark elf's frown deepened. She'd lost count of the times that she'd stopped like this, panting after a particularly laborious climb or a mad scramble, only to have the ulitharid use its psionic abilities and pass obstacles with no apparent effort.

Limbs trembling, she got to her feet and padded over to the gap. She could, and did, hate Maslynrensine, but that didn't stop her coveting its psionic powers. Sighing she pushed herself onwards.

* * *

_Present day…_

This was, according to Maslynrensine's mind reading, the largest noble house left in Ched Nasad. House Teh'Kinrellz's holdings consisted of a large number of rough dwellings stretching from the edge of the chasm to several side caverns from which came the soft lowing of rothé.

A huge winch had been built over the abyss. As Charinda watched, several dozen slaves began the long journey down under the watchful eye of armed guards. She presumed that they were being forced to dig through the wreckage at the very bottom and the sheer magnitude of the task staggered the bard.

She led her master away from the operation and into the poorer area of the Teh'Kinrellz camp. If the ulitharid was correct in thinking that Ched Nasad drow had been press ganged then they would have gone to the slum areas. No point in going against nobles when fodder could be found here.

The majority of buildings here were rough lean-tos and huts constructed out of any material they could find. It stank of stale sweat and blood and filth. The dark elves here were lean and their eyes shone hungrily out of their pinched and gaunt faces.

Many of them retreated into alleyways and buildings when they saw Maslynrensine approach and those that didn't flee outright glared warily at it. Evidently they or nearby camps had already been the target of illithid slavers and brain raids. If it wasn't just a natural distrust of the brain-eating creatures instead.

The bard sighed. She wasn't going to get anywhere with an aberration at her heels.

_A foolish notion.__ They will give me information because I command it and should they refuse to do so willingly then I will take it._

Charinda winced and glanced about. There had been no change in facial expression in the crowds. So Maslynrensine's telepathy had thankfully been private. She turned to the ulitharid,

_It doesn't work like that here!_

Maslynrensine's blank, silvery eyes narrowed only very slightly, but it was signal enough for Charinda,

_With all due respect, of course,_ she hastily added, wanting desperately to avoid the telepath's anger, _But this is a drow city. The power struggles will only be emphasised when there's little enough power to go around. Your presence here may only make things worse._

_What do I care for the fate of this place? Instability will only bring further opportunities for me and my lesser kin._

The Underdark guide gritted her teeth. This was going poorly.

Then an idea struck her.

_If it is true that the army passed through here does it not make sense that they also have contacts? If they are brought rumours that an ulitharid has been asking questions they would hunt us down._

_I want them to come. I will destroy them,_ Maslynrensine drew itself up to its full, impressive height.

_But__ why alert them before it's time? If I can question the drow here, it would leave you free to use-_ something tore at her insides and she clutched at her chest, crying out in pain.

_Do no__t seek to manipulate me, thrall._

_I did not, truly I did not!_ Charinda forced herself to meet the ulitharid's gaze, _I only wished to assist you and-_ the pain increased and she fell to her knees, gritting her teeth so as not to scream.

Abruptly the agony ceased. The bard looked up at the aberration, her body tense, expecting another attack.

_Your manipulations may work against one of the lesser races but you cannot fool an illithid'__s psionic abilities._

Charinda felt something in her body shift and coil expectantly and she shuddered.

_Escape is impossible, thrall. As long as the crystal remains inside you it shall remain so,_ the telepath began gliding away, _Go. Conduct your investigation. I shall summon you in time._

The ulitharid vanished and the dark elf was left kneeling in the filth.

* * *

As the bard approached the stall its owner looked up briefly. He scowled deeply as she bypassed the meagre wares on offer. Before she'd even opened her mouth he spoke,

"Fuck off, half-breed."

The Underdark guide clenched her fists. She'd almost forgotten about this. Her black hair, her height and her rangy build lead many to believe that she was half-drow, and therefore, with no noble blood worth speaking of, only a hair's-breath above the slave and non-drow populations.

She forced her features away from their habitual scowl and into a more pleasant configuration,

"I assure you. I am as much a drow as you are," she pushed her hair, currently out of its clip, away from one of her ears, which were as long and as sharp as the rest of her.

The stall keeper shrugged,

"Don't mean a thing. Could just be magic or some fancy knife work."

The bard scowled. A heartbeat later the male drow was outlined in faerie fire. He reached for a spear that was leaning by the counter and Charinda dispelled the effect, raising her hands in a pacifying gesture,

"I'm looking for someone. I'm willing to pay."

The spear went back against the counter and the female drow relaxed,

"Have you seen a male, a spell caster of average height with white hair and red eyes?" she drew her parchment from her pouch, "He had a tattoo on his cheek – this design but in red."

The parchment was taken from her and studied carefully. Finally the male drow shook his head,

"Not seen him."

"Is there anywhere here where spell casters gather? Any reports of-"

The bard was cut off as the drow merchant snarled in rage. He'd turned the parchment over and had spotted what was on the other side, what Charinda had missed. The page had evidently come from one of Maslynrensine's religious texts because on the reverse side was the stylized image of an illithid's head – the symbol of Ilsensine.

Of course, the other drow did not recognise it as the symbol of an evil deity, not that the dark reputation of Ilsensine would have anger him. What he cared about was the fact that it was an illithid symbol.

Charinda ducked and rolled backwards, scrambling out of range of the spear.

"We don't want your masters here!"

"I'm not with-" she sidestepped a spear thrust, "I don't work for mind flay-" she lunged back away from the seeking spear point, "I'm a Prime Underdark-" her opponent did not want to seem to listen. Clearly these drow had been a frequent hunting ground for brain-raids…

She drew her githyanki thighbone. This male was not going to listen to her reassurances, not matter how many times she-

A creak of leather was her only clue to the next attack. The bard spun, wielding her bone like a club and bringing it down on the arm of a dagger-wielding dark elf. She leapt back, looking all around her.

There were more drow, a lot more. Whether they saw her as an agent of the illithid race or merely wanted to claim her equipment was unimportant. She drew in breath and sang her first note.

The male she'd first spoken to was suddenly hoisted into the air. Something was curled around his neck. In the dim light it appeared purple and was coated in a layer of mucus.

Maslynrensine drove its tentacles effortlessly through the dark elf's skull. Its victim did not even have time to scream – if indeed he could with the ulitharid's longer tentacles around its neck – before the psion gave a single quick jerk. The sickening sound of tearing flesh seemed overly loud in the silence that had fallen. The dripping brain was guided into Maslynrensine's mouth and it carelessly discarded the corpse as it glided forward.

Someone dropped a dome of darkness over Charinda and her master. The bard tensed, preparing to meet an attack. None came and all she heard was the sound of retreating drow.

Her relief was short-lived as a hand clamped onto her shoulder. She had nearly drawn her blades before she realised that the appendage was too large to belong to anyone but her master. The ulitharid dragged and pushed her out of the darkness, resulting in an undignified backwards scramble.

The aberration was wearing the expression that was best described as sated but those emotions were fading in favour of annoyance, overtaking even the blissful sensations that could only come from fresh brains. Its grip tightened and the dark elf writhed in pain.

Illithid society prized psionic talent over everything else so Charinda often forgot that the ulitharid was also physically strong. And the tentacles that were starting to lash just inches away were pure muscle, designed to break through a skull with ease, as demonstrated only moments before.

_It seems that your inve__stigation did not go as planned. It seems that you are becoming increasingly worthless to me in this task,_ a tentacle brushed the drow's face, _Perhaps I should consider putting you to better use,_ a second tentacle coiled around the back of the bard's head, _as a meal, or perhaps-_

The ulitharid abruptly ceased its telepathy. It let go of its thrall and closed its eyes for a moment. When its silvery eyes snapped open again there was a muffled cry and a lean figure was pulled bodily from an alleyway.

_You were watching me,_ a pause as the telepath reached out for the surface thoughts of the new arrival; _You wish to speak to me. Then speak, lest I take displeasure in your actions and take you as a meal._

The telekinetic force that was dragging the stranger forward ceased and the figure was allowed to regain his balance and composure. He was human, dressed like a slave and lean and scarred from his work. When he spoke, however, his tones were cultured and his Undercommon flawless,

"I bring greetings from my master, the mage Quevven Jusztiirn. I am his agent and humble servant, Hurnoj Rikrets," he bowed deeply. Charinda saw that when he spoke the teeth that flashed briefly were red instead of white and she shifted slightly as he began to speak again, "My master has knowledge of many things, including rival spell casters. He will be willing to meet, to negotiate a trade for the information that you seek."

Hurnoj straightened. The bard also noticed he smelt of smoke and, remembering her master's mention of incendiary devices, glanced nervously in the direction of the chasm.

_I will __condescend to commence negotiations with your master,_ a heartbeat later, the ulitharid added, _Be on your guard, thrall. I do not want a repeat of this cycle's incident._

Understanding that last part was private, spoke only to her mind, Charinda's hands crept to her weapon. As they followed the human away from the Teh'Kinrellz camp she focussed completely on her given task. Drow cities were dangerous, and all the more so in a desperate situation.

It had been shown all too well today.

* * *

**Jessi:** Next chapter: Charinda and Maslynrensine meet Quevven Jusztiirn. Will they find information? Or will they succumb to the power struggles of Ched Nasad?


	9. Chapter Eight: Service

**Chapter Eight – Service**

_Mind flayers are most interested in news about happenings on the surface of the world, what the drow are plotting, anything having to do with githyanki or githzerai, news involving their own activities, and important astrological or magical discoveries. They are interested in everything else, too, but these subjects command their attention._

-From _Lords of Madness_

_

* * *

  
_

Maslynrensine followed the slave from the camp and the accumulated filth of the lesser races. It shuddered mentally, glad that the only instance of physical contact with any of the inhabitants had been brief. And the rewards had far outweighed the distaste of physical contact. Its shorter tentacles curled in remembered ecstasy. The ulitharid allowed itself only a moment in reminiscence then brought itself back to the matter at hand.

Its thrall padded at its side. With a brief touch of her mind it could feel her caution, see her wary glances at her surroundings. It withdrew its mind from the female thrall and cast its intelligence toward the other slave.

There was very little new – only the male's growing apprehension as he drew closer to his master. The telepath had, of course, already examined the lesser being's brain for hostile intent, any crude attempt to trap the ulitharid. There was no such intent in the slave's brain though that meant nothing. Were it in a similar position Maslynrensine certainly wouldn't have given such information to a mere thrall.

Some of the other information had been quite interesting – yet it also meant that the psion had to proceed cautiously. There were disguises here both mundane and those that required its psionic powers and peerless intellect to penetrate. Even the slave was not as it seemed. Its personal thrall thought the male a human. Instead the male was one of the elemental beings known as the planetouched, specially a fire genasi.

The ulitharid had never devoured the brain of a fire genasi.

However such opportunities would have to wait, if not passed by entirely. This was the least of the data that the ulitharid now possessed. Caution, its formidable intelligence and the psionic powers that were its birthright were the only things that would see the aberration through.

* * *

Possessed as she was with the keenest eyes, it was Charinda who saw the meeting place first. When the bard had last entered the City of Shimmering Webs it had belonged to House Everhrret – successful merchants that had brought much business to the Guild of Underdark Guides.

The outbuildings, barracks and temporary warehouses, had been partly demolished though there was an occasional scurry of movement that suggested occupation. Hurnoj Rikrets skirted these and led them straight to the manor proper.

The drow of House Everhrret must have gone – vanished in the initial disaster or in the turmoil that must have followed. The large, opulent building bore scorch marks and one side had completely collapsed into a sloping pile of rubble. To enter via the main doors was impossible, they were fused together, the elaborate spider web decoration only recognisable along the edges.

Entering the building was done by scrambling up the rubble and alighting in a formally private bedchamber that was now open to the rest of the cavern. It was an easy climb for Charinda, who was used to the treacherous vistas of the Underdark wilds. It was even easier for Maslynrensine who merely appeared out of thin air at the top.

Quevven Jusztiirn was waiting in a lofty hall, lounging on a fallen block of masonry. A tiny globe of light hovered over his shoulder, illuminating the text in his lap. In the light his hair was revealed to be blue, possibly dyed but equally likely enchanted that way. He appeared to be a magic user of some kind – his robes and _piwafwi_ were covered in tiny pockets for spell components. He smelt odd too – it reminded Charinda of the aftermath of a lightning spell and she dropped her hand onto her salvaged wand.

The mage stood, his eyes fixed on Maslynrensine. When he was standing the bard could see that he was remarkably tall for a male – he was nearly her own height.

"My Lord Mind Flayer, my Lady Drow," he bowed slightly, "I am glad you agreed to attend."

Charinda winced. Quevven Jusztiirn had just committed a grave error in Maslynrensine's eyes. He'd addressed her in the same manner as her master. To Maslynrensine this was a most terrible insult, to be put on the same level as its thrall. To do this to an ordinary illithid would be bad enough but to an ulitharid who held themselves so high above even their own kin…

She suspected that Maslynrensine would have been angered by the mere fact that the mage had assigned it a gender (for illithids were sexless, as far as Charinda could tell). She turned to the telepath, ready to placate it, but to her surprise the ulitharid did nothing. The mage continued unmolested,

"As my agent has already told you I am Quevven Jusztiirn, a sorcerer and scholar both."

_I am Maslynrensine__. I have business in this place so speak quickly._

The blue-haired drow nodded,

"I know. Your business reached my ears quickly," he looked Maslynrensine up and down pointedly, "One such as yourself does not pass without notice. And with such an unusual request."

_My kin are masters of the Invisible Art. To study the cruder mechanics of the arcane we are required to look outside our cities and outpost._

"I had thought that. But if you were seeking magical items or to study the arcane you would have gone elsewhere. Perhaps to Sshamath. You were searching for a specific magic user."

"And what business is it of yours?" Charinda winced as pain blossomed behind her eyes, her master's punishment for speaking out of turn.

"I am a sorcerer. It is natural for me to keep a close eye on my rivals, is it not? I may have information on the magic user. I may be able to obtain information. Perhaps my contacts will have what you wish for. But I require something in return."

_I am willing to trade for such information. I have access to wealth and items of magic._

At the mental command of her master the bard pulled out a handful of treasure from her belt pouch. She'd been foolish to try and keep her treasure trove a secret from a mind reader but the female was just glad that the ulitharid saw the practicality of it.

"Such trinkets are worthless to me. As for your magic items, you have nothing I want," the sorcerer grinned, "I wish a service from you."

A gurgle escaped the aberration,

_You presume to give _me_ orders? I am no slave that you can coerce into action or servitude!_

"Nevertheless, if you wish information then it is what you must do. Only two acts of reclamation separate the two of you from the required knowledge. A simple enough matter with your psionics and your capable-looking companion."

Charinda slid slightly away from the ulitharid. The crystal in her head was trembling in sympathy with the aberration's suppressed rage. She had to act before its foul temper soured the negotiations, had to buy time for her master to calm itself,

"What exactly would we be retrieving for you?"

"In the attack on Ched Nasad several of my possessions were lost. Many of them are buried amongst the rubble or are in the hands of others. It is not prudent for me to take them back. Much, much safer if strangers do it."

"And I suppose that some of these objects were not in your hands before, correct?"

The blue-haired drow said nothing but merely grinned widely.

_It shall be done. But the information I seek must be ready by the time I return. I will not waste another cycle in this place._

"Of course," the sorcerer bowed to the ulitharid, "it shall be done."

* * *

Charinda cursed all mages. She cursed all sorcerers and psions. She reserved her best curses in a dozen languages for overgrown illithids who placed crystals in innocent drow females.

She was currently climbing down the chasm wall. In front of her the rocky surface unfolded away, down into the darkness and the abyss and she swore again. To avoid traps she had to see where she was going so currently her head was pointing in the direction of the abyss floor, miles below her. Her hands and feet, both bare, were adhering to the stone with one of her Guide charms.

Blood rushing to her head, she looked up again, hoping to see the cave opening. A rare smile crossed her features as she saw the protruding lip of the entrance and she scurried down towards it.

She peered into the cave, seeing no one. Now came the difficult part. The bard gripped the edge of the stone arch tightly, took a deep breath and dismissed her spell.

Her feet, no longer sticky, began to slide down the stone surface. She kicked away from the wall, her legs going over her head. She tucked her head into her chest as she turned, sensing the granite surface pass within a hair's-breath of her skull.

Her back thudded against the arch and she exhaled softly. She dropped down into the cave.

Charinda pulled her boots back on; checking that her equipment was still in its place.

The difficult nature of the climb and the importance of stealth meant that she'd had to leave some of her equipment hidden in the ruins of House Everhrret. Currently she had the ring, amulet and wand that she'd taken from the mage at Hal'carnasas and her nekodes. Her githyanki bone swords, her pouch of treasure and the remainder of her climbing equipment were either too bulky to take with her or else would have no use here.

She padded down the corridor, strapping her nekodes to her hands. They were the only weapon she had that was small enough to take. The bard hoped that they would see no use.

Her given task was to steal a statuette from a complex of caves in the chasm wall. The sorcerer had given her a brief description: it was a representation of the goddess Shar, carved from jet with a black diamond in its hands.

Charinda had met Shar worshippers before, shadow mages from Sshamath. She did not wish to repeat the incident.

As she padded stealthily along the corridor she wondered at the unfairness of it all. It was not the more-powerful Maslynrensine that was walking into a Sharran coven. By virtue of its teleportation and other psionic abilities the ulitharid got to complete its task unmolested by enemies.

The bard mentally cursed the ulitharid again.

The long corridor came to an end. Five doors, each heavy things of iron, led off from it.

Quevven Jusztiirn had scryed the cavern complex beforehand. With no sign of the statuette in those areas that he could see, the sorcerer had assumed that it was in the only area that he could not. Charinda ran her hands over the last door, looking for traps.

She found none. Puzzled, the bard rocked back on her heels and studied the door. This meant either one of two things. It was possible that she'd missed a particularly well concealed trap – she was a spellsinger not a thief. The second possibly was that there were no traps and that the Sharrans counted on their secret and hard-to-reach location for defence.

Remembering the shadow mages, Charinda realised there was a third possibility. The Sharrans could have conjured up a guardian beast.

She could check the other doors to narrow down the possibilities, but… She glanced around. There may be no drow here _now_ but that could easily change. Better to be gone before they arrived. Preparing to move swiftly she opened the door.

In the absence of any plumes of fire, poison-tipped darts or similar deadly effect, she assumed there was no trap and her muscles relaxed. What there was instead was a shroud of darkness that even her darkvision could not penetrate.

She'd prepared for this eventuality. She gestured and brushed both hands across her eyelids. When she opened her eyes the magical darkness was no barrier to her. With darkvision the world was in black-and-white, no colour existing without light. Under the spell and within the magical darkness the contrast was heightened, with almost no grey.

It was enough, however, to tell her that the small corridor was empty of guardian beasts. There were several tripwires strung across the floor at varying heights, though it was a simple matter to step over them. The Sharrans must have a way to lift the darkness or else they access to the same spell as she did.

She had just passed the last of the tripwire traps and was already scanning the final door for additional traps when something lunged at her with a bloodthirsty howl.

* * *

Maslynrensine finally reached its destination and returned to full corporality. Much to its annoyance the corridors here had buckled and were close to collapse. Even at the highest point the ceiling nearly brushed its head and it would be forced the bend double before long. It gave a gurgle of annoyance but started to glide through the narrow passage.

The task given to it by the sorcerer – that though still enraged the ulitharid – was but a simple matter for Maslynrensine. It had levitated down the chasm until it reached the shattered ruins at the bottom. The slave gangs digging through the rubble gave it no trouble – their minds told them that there was no ulitharid. Or rather the psion's own mind had told them and their eyes had slid over it as though it did not exist. A few lesser beings had even made wide detours around the telepath without realising it.

That had at least given Maslynrensine a sense of superiority over the sorcerer. Its own powers were so much subtler than the mages' with their gesturing and chanting. All it had to do was will it and it was done. Even the sorcerer's scrying could have been completed far more efficiently by a seer – a psion specialising in clairsentience powers.

The drow's scrying had fulfilled its purpose though and, once at the identified location, the ulitharid had become incorporeal and slid into the ruins.

This place had been a drow House that had crashed to the bottom of the chasm like so many others. These corridors, however, had been reinforced by magic and that had mostly preserved them and the items stored within.

Maslynrensine squeezed its lanky frame through a partly collapsed door. Its interest was suddenly piqued as it realised the nature of the room it had just entered.

It was a library. It was not as large or as grand as the Hal'carnasas temple library had been, but it was impressive considering it had been built and stocked by lesser races. The ceiling sloped steeply towards one side and had crushed three floors of bookcases in its fall, but there were still plenty of preserved volumes.

The item that Maslynrensine would be procuring was an iron tablet upon which was certain information that the sorcerer desired. Certainly a library was the logical place to search for such an item. The ulitharid glided across the broken floor, stepping carefully over several feet of crumbled stone, fallen books and ruined furniture.

Its target was a vast display cast of marble with a shattered glass front. There was no iron tablet… but there was an immensely interesting folio and a thick tome purporting to be a detailed analysis of various Underdark societies.

Both were slid into the potion bag at the telepath's waist, between the ranks of vials and the lid embossed with Ilsensine's symbol, and it went over to another bookcase, lifting its robe primly as it glided through the dust. It may be able to salvage _something_ out of this humiliating situation. One of its tentacles twitched in anger – lapdog to a sorcerer was no fate for an illithid, let alone an ulitharid. Another thin volume was slid into the case.

It spotted another tome that had fallen open on a shelf and bent to retrieve it. Absorbed in the complex diagrams and figures on the dusty pages, Maslynrensine did not hear or sense its assailant until the first blow was struck.


	10. Chapter Nine: Battle

**Jessi:** Sorry for the delay. Had a ton of important school work to do. Hope this extra-long chapter makes up for it. Ah, it is good to be writing about arrogant ulitharids and grumpy drow again.

Yes, Iceheart Firesoul, the ulitharids are given more licence to be impractical and proud than the average illithid. You see Mas' indulging its temper and getting its own way a lot (and it will continue to happen in the rest of the story :D ). It's still quite practical though. Maslynrensine probably would have taken the Sharran coven job if not for the fact that the ruins are several feet under rubble – impossible to get to if you can't turn incorporeal like Mas'. It could have done both jobs, but it is used to making thralls doing all the work and it doesn't want to stay in Ched Nasad for any longer than it has to. ;P

* * *

**Chapter Nine**** – Battle**

_Illithids are better known by their common name of mind flayers and it is an apt title. A mind flayer's attack strikes into a victim's most vulnerable spot. It can psychically peel back a target's personality the way a surgeon draws back swollen flesh. Tentacles slick with slime write across the ravaged edges of bone to caress gray, glittering coils of brain before drawing them from the conscious, screaming prey._

-From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

The blow did not penetrate Maslynrensine's psionic protection but it still sent the ulitharid stumbling forward into the bookcase. Additionally an unnatural chill seeped into the telepath's flesh, bypassing the meagre protection of its robe. It hissed in anger and sent its intelligence out to that of its assailant – readying a most potent manifestation and preparing to delve into the other's mind…

There was no mind, only a terrible void, nothing for the ulitharid's telepathy to fasten to, nothing it could attack. Urgently it switched to another manifestation.

It stepped into thin air and reappeared ten feet away. Its assailant's attack met nothing and it swung its head in the aberration's direction.

It was huge – taller than the telepath by a good few feet and at least three times as broad. It was humanoid and its coal-black body flickered with blue-white flames. The eyes that were fixed on the psion were also made of fire, bright flashes of sickly-yellow.

Maslynrensine shuddered and backed away. Its psionic senses were telling it that nothing could exist there but its eyes and the lingering chill in its flesh told it otherwise. The conflicting views gnawed at the ulitharid's mind, weakening its brilliant intellect.

Shuddering, it recalled the lessons of its infancy back at Hal'carnasas and completely withdrew its mind back into its body. One side of the conflict removed, it was able to focus on identifying its opponent.

Its body immediately suggested fire elemental. But there had been no heat given off. The flames were cold and flickered low. Could it be a necromental then?

The hulking thing suddenly rushed the aberration. It left brief flashes of blue fire in the wake of its footsteps and trailing behind the arm it had raised to strike.

Maslynrensine teleported again, plans forming in its brilliant mind. Yes, it was a necromental, an undead elemental. Logically there must have been elementals bound here and as the building fell through the abyss they would have been summoned, only to be killed in the final collision.

The necromental roared, revealing a mouth full of cool white flames. A wave of chill air washed over the ulitharid, only serving to confirm its thoughts. The fire elemental's flames had died and all that was left was the chill of the grave. It craved the warmth it had once possessed.

Maslynrensine torn a dorje from its belt and thrust it in the direction of its opponent. Ice and frost formed on the bookshelves and lined the spines of dusty books. When it hit the necromental it screamed in pain and a portion of its blue flames died completely.

The psion did not stop its assault but sent a granite display case crashing into it. Half a stone table and a broken block of marble followed closely. The undead creature seized this last one. Now lined with a layer of frost, it was sent sailing back towards the aberration.

The stone flew through an incorporeal Maslynrensine. More hoarfrost settled on the necromental and greater swaths of fire were extinguished. It tried to move closer to the psion but its legs only trembled and did not move. The ulitharid hissed triumphantly and prepared its dorje for a final shot.

Five points of blue light flew through the air and exploded against the ulitharid's psionic protection. Hissing, the aberration swept its dorje in the direction of this new attacker.

A bloated, dark-skinned corpse was caught halfway out of the layer of rubble. Ice fastened its limbs to the stone, held completely immobile. Only its head and torso were free to strain towards the aberration. Yellow teeth snapped, longing to tear into mauve-coloured flesh.

Another form burst from the rubble beside the first. There came the sound of grinding stone from the other side. Maslynrensine took a careful step back, trying to keep all its enemies in sight.

Something snagged its robes. Skeletal hands were digging into the cloth, pulling the aberration closer to a wide mouth.

With a gurgle of revulsion, the ulitharid tore away. There was a noise of ripping cloth but Maslynrensine couldn't focus on such things now. The necromental was looming over the telepath and there was the sharp crack of ice as the trapped creature freed itself.

The aberration vanished and reappeared once more. These teleportation manifestations were a temporary measure. With more and more of the undead freeing themselves from the rubble and it would have to attack soon.

Maslynrensine turned to face the gathering undead, pouring extra power into its innate psionic protection. The necromental should be first. Another blast of a dorje would finish it. For lack of any suitable minds to dominate it would have to resort –

Abruptly it was suffocating. Its free hand crept up to its throat. The air had suddenly gone and it could not breathe.

A dark form descended towards the ulitharid.

* * *

A howling form lunged towards Charinda. It was fast, inhumanly so, but the bard's reflexes had been honed by years in the Underdark wilderness and the arena of Hal'carnasas. She ducked and rolled forward, feeling the breeze as her attacker past over her.

She planted one hand firmly on the floor and pivoted on the heel. Once she was facing her attacker she leapt up to her feet.

To her enhanced eyes it appeared as a solid black silhouette with two white slits for eyes. She'd seen a hunting cat from the surface once in a wizard's menagerie. The shadowy thing was like that, sleek and predatory, and it moved with a dancer's grace.

She began a song, tensing her muscles ready. The guardian beast turned in her direction, a difficult thing in the narrow corridor. It raised a paw the size of dinner-plate and swiped at her.

Charinda dodged. Her back hit the wall and she almost lost her song. But she persisted and dug the metal studs of her nekodes into the dark flesh of the guardian beast.

Lightning surged from her hands and through the metal into the creature. It howled, staggering back and tearing itself from Charinda's weapons. Its muscles were twitching involuntarily and it fell, its weight carrying it down into the tripwire.

The bard was already running but the heat still washed over her back and the roar of the flames still made her ears ring. She fetched up against the door, coughing and hacking in the suddenly hot air and smell of roasting meat. She looked back at the smouldering corpse that was melting into the shadows and spat.

There were no traps on the door and she pushed it open. It didn't take a great leap of the imagination to see that this was the chapel. The symbol of Shar hung everywhere, a black disc outlined in purple (appearing as a slightly lighter shade of grey in darkvision). Her target, the statuette of Shar, was in pride-of-place on a long altar.

She whistled up a spell that would let her detect magic. There were plenty of minor magics at work here, but none that suggested a trap. Perhaps they thought that the previous corridor and their protections against scrying were enough. Charinda scooped up the statue, grateful for this little reprieve.

"Who are you?"

The guide whirled around. There was a drow male in long robes, probably a handful of years from adulthood. He had a mace, decorated with wicked spikes, in one hand. Behind him was an open door. Charinda had missed it because it had been covered with a heavy religious tapestry, now pushed aside.

The male had not attacked, though. In fact his mace was held at his side and not at the ready. His eyes were fixed on Charinda, specifically…

The bard removed her githyanki clip and shook out her black hair,

"At last! I was growing weary of waiting," she infused every word with arrogance, laying a subtle, but potent, charm over it all. It made her voice hum with power, "Is this how you treat an envoy of the Dark Goddess?"

The male blanched, and bowed deeply,

"My pardon, exalted one! Forgive me, I did not realise!" while his eyes were fixed on the floor, Charinda slid the statuette into a pouch. The bard smiled inwardly. Outwardly she assumed a frown and opened her mouth to berate the young acolyte.

"What is this?"

Another slender form appeared from behind the male. This time it was a female, dressed in long, dark robes. The symbol of Shar was displayed prominently on a chain about her neck. She also carried a weapon, a wickedly spiked flail. Unlike the male, her weapon was held at the ready, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"An honoured envoy of the Dark Goddess, my lady," muttered the male.

The female cleric looked at Charinda her eyes narrowing further,

"You fool! She is no such thing!"

Charinda cursed all clerics.

* * *

Maslynrensine fell to its hands and knees, its dorje falling from its loosened grip. It craned its cephalopod head backwards as its mouth opened and closed, trying desperately to draw air into its lungs.

A dark form, a roiling sheet of darkness was above him. Two slits of red served it for eyes. From the chill seeping from it, the ulitharid decided it was another necromental, this one of air. Like the fire elemental now infused with the chill of the grave, this elemental now brought with it the absence of life-giving air. Even when starved of such a necessity, the aberration's brilliant mind still kept making connections.

Shuddering, Maslynrensine countered.

Pure psionic energy exploded from the psion. The undead air elemental gave an unearthly scream as it was torn apart. Even the undead that were approaching were pushed back, gaping holes appearing in their grey flesh. More importantly, the air came rushing back and the telepath staggered to its feet as it began an undignified burst of hacking coughs.

One of the dark-skinned corpses raised its arms and let out a snarl. A single bolt of darkness flew towards the ulitharid. It was absorbed easily by its psionic protections. However, other dark figures had begun their own chants. Deathlocks then, thought the telepath. It explained the earlier arcane attack. It coughed once more then focussed its psionic energy. Once more, it stepped into thin air, reappearing on an upper level of the library.

Immediately, a grey figure fell shrieking from a shadowy alcove. Long fingers of bone clutched at Maslynrensine's arm. Skin crawling, the ulitharid lashed out with one longer tentacle – almost by accident. The undead creature staggered backwards, accompanied by yet another tear of cloth. A gurgle of revulsion escaped the telepath and its tentacle curled involuntarily.

The way ahead was blocked by fallen masonry. A simple matter of turning incorporeal, of course. But what then?

A lash of psionic energy tore through the necromental that reached for the ulitharid. The aberration snarled in anger, at the abominations that longed to taste its flesh, and at the entire situation. This was not how it was supposed to be!

The brain canister at its waist chimed as it struck something. The musical noise of metal against metal caught Maslynrensine's attention and it turned.

A door had been set into the wall. Only the smallest portion was left unburied by stone, which was what the brain canister had struck. This was only a point in its favour. The undead would not be able to enter, allowing the ulitharid time to plan and rest unmolested. Ghost-like, the aberration slid through the metal surface.

The interior was free of undead, allowing Maslynrensine to inspect itself. It was unharmed, even the chill had left its flesh, warmed by action and flight. Its robe, however, had not been so fortunate. One of the sleeves hung in shreds from the elbow down and the voluminous skirts were torn.

The ulitharid plucked at the tattered cloth then touched the exposed mauve flesh beneath it. Another humiliation but thankfully no injury. It could still carry out its vengeance. The ulitharid moved from introspection and scanned its surroundings.

This was a small room, meant to be a private place for the study of certain artefacts. They were mostly broken or useless, resting in pieces amid glass shards that had once been display cases. Against one wall, however, was something much more interesting.

It was the iron tablet of which the sorcerer spoke. However, he'd neglected to mention one vital piece of information.

The tablet was huge, at least seven feet long and four feet wide. It had also survived the fall of this house because it was several inches thick and alchemically reinforced. It was much too heavy to be teleported along with Maslynrensine and it had too much mass to be turned incorporeal along with the ulitharid.

The psion hissed. This never would have happened on an illithid-lead operation.

As it was, there still was something that the telepath could do. Exhaling, shutting out the faint howls of the undead, emptying and quieting its brilliant intellect, Maslynrensine began to concentrate.

* * *

Charinda lunged towards the priestess but the Sharran priests were faster. The male extended his arm and spat several syllables. The room darkened and Charinda blinked as her vision switched from darkvision to ultravision, the two Sharrans now solid black silhouettes against white. At the same time the female tossed a handful of black powder into the air. A long shadow creature appeared, sleek and serpent-like and consisting mainly of hungry, wide mouth.

The bard turned and darted towards the door, hoping that they thought her disabled without her darkvision. Hissing the shadow creature darted across the floor, faster than she thought possible, cutting off her exit.

"Heretic!" the priestess readied her flail, "Face me!"

The irony of the priestess' insult not lost on her, Charinda turned. While her hand hung at her waist, her fingers crept stealthily into a tiny pouch. The priestess was closing in and the bard hoped desperately that her luck would return. Her fingertips touched a ceramic surface and a smile crossed her face.

The tiny globe flew from her fingers. The Sharrens' eyes followed it automatically but Charinda was already throwing her hands over her eyes. The orb exploded. For the first time the full-force of the sun's light came to this chapel of Shar.

The cries of the other drow were drowned out by the frenzied screech of the shadow creature. The serpent-like creature was thrashing madly on the ground, its muscular coils coming within an inch of shattering the bard's bones.

Charinda skirted the creature and finally reached the door. Thankfully, the alchemical globe had lost none of its potency, even though it had been in the bard's hidden pocket for six years now. She was lucky that the Hal'carnasas illithids had decided against using them to capture thralls, not willing to expend the energy and resources needed to restore the victim's sight. She was equally lucky that her master had no need of its samples and that they'd fallen into her hands.

She darted along the corridor, not stopping even as she reached the entrance. She lunged into empty space, a spell of feather falling on her lips.

* * *

Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas appeared back in the hall of House Everhrret, much to the disappointment of Charinda. She also sighed inwardly as she saw the damage that had been done to the ulitharid's robe. Repair work would fall to her and it was very likely that the aberration would be in a foul mood, hardly making her task easier.

The blue-haired sorcerer had been examining the Sharren statuette and scribbling notes in a large tome. Now he looked up from his work, a broad grin on his face,

"My Lord Mind Flayer, you have returned! My lady has been poor company, but relinquish the tablet to me and both of you can be on your way."

_You failed to mention the undead,_ Maslynrensine gestured to its torn sleeve, _In addition, you failed to mention the tablet's properties: its weight and density were beyond the limitations of teleportation or ethereal travel._

"So you do not have it," the sorcerer's eyes narrowed and that peculiar smell, like the aftermath of lightning, grew stronger. Charinda and the fire genasi reached for their weapons, ready to come to the aid of their respective masters, willingly or not, "The information on that tablet was crucial!"

_You have misunderstood. Though you failed to give the information that could have lead to a successful salvage of the tablet I have obtained the information that it contained._

"You had best not been lying, illithid!" snarled Quevven Jusztiirn.

Surprisingly the ulitharid did not bother even to correct the mage but instead closed its eyes. It was silent for a moment until it silvery eyes snapped open once more,

_Heed the words of Rhylaghar Hlaate, archmage and servant to the Lady of Spiders, hail that which is her dark glory. Heed the words that were revealed to me in the workings of the Lady's children and in the poisonous words of demons and the serpent tongues of devils and-_

At this point the sorcerer cursed and pulled his book towards himself, starting to transcribe the aberration's words. The ulitharid continued methodically for some time and the sorcerer filled at least a dozen pages.

At around the five-page mark, the crystal in Charinda's head explained the process. It was a skill cultivated by many psions, not only of the illithid race. By turning its own powers and intellect onto itself, a psion so trained could memorize lengthy texts; persuade itself to ignore an otherwise crippling wound or even to tolerate the most lethal of poisons in its system. The drow female had to admit that it was an impressive skill.

When both had finished, Quevven Jusztiirn wiped an ink-splattered hand on his robe, reached into a pocket and pulled out a round stone,

"I contacted an associate of mine. He believes he knows who you seek and he is willing to meet you," he handed the stone to Maslynrensine, "This bears my sigil and he will know you by it. There's a trading station between this place and Eryndlyn called Noquervs. Do you know it?"

Charinda nodded. Noquervs was neutral ground, a place where several species met to trade and parley. There was a strong possibility that there would be an Underdark Guide willing to help or at least to take a message. She glanced at the sigil in Maslynrensine's hands and touched her temple. Maybe this associate would know a little more about her situation too.

* * *

The drow carefully examined the work she'd done so far on the ulitharid's sleeve. Nodding to herself she continued stitching. This close to the aberration's skin she wielded the bone needle with the utmost care. The punishment that would follow was not worth the brief pleasure she would get from driving the needle into the pale mauve flesh.

It had been an easier task than she'd hoped. Maslynrensine had placated itself with one of its new tomes and all she had to do was avoid the occasional lazy twitch of a tentacle.

She took another look at the dull blue stone that Quevven Jusztiirn had given them. She wondered, not for the first time if the sorcerer could be trusted.

_Quevven Jusztiirn would not dare to betray me._

"But how can you be sure?" said Charinda, hurriedly adding, "I mean, that he has no way of knowing how his sorcery compares to your psionics."

_Even if he were to underestimate me in such a fashion, he has no way of knowing that I have no base of operations or other illithid companions. Even if he believes he could triumph in battle against me, he would not be so delusional to believe __a dragon could do the same against an illithid taskforce._

The needle slid into Charinda's dark flesh and she yelped,

"Dragon?"

Maslynrensine turned its head towards her,

_Yes. His protections do not extend to his thrall and the slave knew what his master was. An oversight not found in illithid operations. I had not known that blue dragon clans were infiltrating drow society in this manner, I had thought it a subtlety beyond them.__ Such information could prove valuable._

The bard swallowed. She'd been so close to a dragon and without her master too. First the attack in Hal'carnasas and now this? She looked down at her trembling hands and let go of the needle to steady them. The sooner she could free herself the better – before this mission swallowed her whole.

* * *

**Jessi:**I do not own Quevven Jusztiirn or Hurnoj Rikrets. They can be found in the _Underdark_ accessory. The sorcerer is indeed a dragon too. :D


	11. Chapter Ten: Encounter

**Chapter Ten – ****Encounter**

_To be fully effective, new thralls need to adjust physically to their enslavement. Thralls might be assigned tasks by the mind flayers that they had no previous training for – as miners, valets, cooks, or warriors. Some are instructed in the fine points of acting as a mind flayer's personal servant. Others learn to handle a stone drill and mallet, practice fighting with dulled weapons, or are simply taught to receive punishment without crying out._

-From _Lords of Madness_

_

* * *

  
_

_Below and above and all around her the streets were lined with eldritch faerie fire. Emblems, sigils and the abundant religious icons in innumerable shades and colours, all were equally beautiful to the wide, amber eyes of Charinda Elvanisstra. From her lofty perch__ and in the dim light, she could see for miles, everything clamouring for her attention. The young drow girl giggled to her self, drunk with the joy of it all. She turned as a husky chuckle followed hers._

_The drow woman coming up behind her, sauntering idly from one foot to the other had a grin on her face to match Charinda's,_

"_Dazzling isn't it?" she sat beside the younger drow, dangling her long legs over the side of the calcified webbing, "I remember having a similar reaction when I first saw the City of Shimmering Webs," from a leather pouch at her side she took a flat piece of sporebread and handed it to Charinda._

_To an observer, not even the City of Shimmering Webs in all its glory could compare to the stunning example of dark elf that was Elvanisstra. The dark beauty of the Guild of Underdark Guides had flawless ebony skin, glittering emerald eyes and a mouth that seemed permanently set in an enchanting, if somewhat roguish, smile._

_Even now, as a small girl, Charinda would wonder how she possibly could be related to the Underdark Guide. She was comforted by the fact they shared the same pitch-black shade of hair, even if Elvanisstra's fell down her back in curls and waves while Charinda's remained straight._

_But surrounded by all the beauty of drow civilisation the young female did not care and she tugged on her mother's cloak for attention,_

"_Mother, why don't we just live here? Wouldn't it be safer and it's so pretty-"_

_Elvanisstra shook her head,_

"_I would rather trust myself in the wilds of the Underdark than in these cities. They are beautiful, true," she gestured to the vista before them, "but underneath the surface…" she trailed off, then leant back on her hands, staring up at the stone ceiling, far above their heads._

_She was silent for a while and Charinda kept her worried eyes on her mother._

"_Charinda," said the older drow, "our ancestors were gladiators and slaves and battle-captives. We were looked down upon and spat at by our kind. They have no toleration for failure," she turned towards her daughter, her face set into a serious expression, "As they abandoned us so we abandoned them. Those of our blood follow a different set of rules, past down from mother and daughter as I do now. Do you understand?"_

_At Charinda's nod she held up three fingers,_

"_Firstly, we hold no allegiance to their cities. We fight only for ourselves," one finger was put down, "Second, we hold no allegiance to their gods. We think only for ourselves," another finger curled back, "and finally, we call no one 'Master'," she leant forward, her green eyes boring into the amber ones of her daughter, "Do you understand me, Charinda?"_

* * *

Charinda was jolted out of her Reverie by a cacophony of mad shrieks. She lunged to her feet, her hands closing on her githyanki bone, twisting to release the deadly blades.

The fight it seemed was already over. A band of derro were scattering away into side tunnels and warrens, screaming and gibbering madly. Charinda sighed, only the derro, a species infected with racial insanity, would be foolish enough to disrupt Maslynrensine's studies.

The ulitharid had, from the look of their small camp, had time to calmly set its book aside before climbing to its feet. Several twitching and gibbering derro, incapacitated by Maslynrensine's mind blast, lay scattered on the ground and the aberration was systemically extracting their brains, devouring them on the spot. The bard locked her two swords back together. She'd seen mind flayers feed enough times so that a few derro did not disturb her.

Her thoughts turned instead to her Reverie and the memories that had played through her mind. Her thoughts had not turned to her mother in a long while. Elvanisstra had been a brilliant and skilled Underdark guide and Charinda was proud to follow in her footsteps, proud to bear her name in place of a House name.

Yet for all her skill and talent, the Underdark had taken her mother all the same. She'd just completed a routine escort task with a patrol of drow out of T'lindhet. A week out of the city she'd sent a sending to the guild as was procedure. It was the last they were to hear of her.

It was all too easy to make a fatal mistake in the Underdark – never mind the myriad beasts, hungry for drow flesh. Perhaps her guild thought the same thing had happened to her.

A sated look to its cephalopod-like countenance, the ulitharid leisurely glided back to its seat and retrieved its book, stowing it back in the potion case,

_We continue to Noquervs. Come, thrall._

Charinda curtly nodded and padded towards the aberration. Something shifted inside her and she halted, raising a hand to her temple.

_I do not believe that that was the correct way of __answering, thrall._

The ulitharid's tone was full of smug amusement and Charinda gritted her teeth as she realised what Maslynrensine wanted. It had been watching her Reverie again. Bastard! Again the crystal moved inside her and she clenched her fist tightly,

"Yes, Master," she forced the words out through gritted teeth, snarling inwardly. The crystal relaxed and she followed the aberration out along the corridor, apologising again and again to the memory of her mother. It was her principles or her life.

* * *

Noquervs was much like the few trading stations the ulitharid had visited before. The site was merely an open space where several tunnels converged and where travelling merchants stopped to sell their wares.

There was a variety of thrall races here. A group of orog mercenaries in heavy plate armour were engaged in snarling conversation with a duergar smith. A glowing humanoid with dark, furred wings, a gloaming, was flitting through the air across the marketplace. It was of no interest to Maslynrensine, the brains of those luminescent creatures were infamously unpalatable. In no way impended by their lack of eyes, two grimlocks were making their way through the crowd. Several drow were lounging in an alcove, their eyes fixed on the aberration.

The ulitharid's eyes were drifting over the many tomes being sold by a wizened deep gnome when its intelligence, touching the surrounding minds briefly, found one focussed on itself. Turning from the gnome's display it quickly focussed. This mind was a crude one but its mission, repeatedly beaten into it, was simple. It was to stay in the tunnel entrance until it witnessed the ulitharid then it was to return to its master with the news.

Maslynrensine's eyes settled on a hunched goblin which was knuckling its way swiftly into another tunnel. Sending a quick telepathic order to its thrall, the aberration waded into the crowd. Even if most of the members of the throng could not identify the psion as an ulitharid they knew enough not to anger a mind flayer. The mob parted before the telepath and where they would or could not then they were forced out of the way with telekinesis.

Once free of the crowd Maslynrensine moved rapidly down the corridor, followed by its thrall. If the goblin's master was the one contacted by the dragon in Ched Nasad, then its vengeance would be completed that much sooner. But if it was sent by another…

Here, the tunnel widened. Colossal mushrooms grew here, many as tall as the ulitharid and as wide around as a barrel. A path had been made by traders through the centre of the mushroom field. The goblin was visible, moving deeper into the vegetation as quickly as its hunched back would allow. An annoyed gurgle escaping its throat, Maslynrensine seized its thrall by her wrist and prepared a manifestation.

They appeared directly in front of the goblin, which squawked in alarm and shuffled backwards. The aberration reached out for its mind.

"Maslynrensine?" a voice called out to them in Drow. An unremarkable dark elf male, swathed in a _piwafwi_ stood before them on the path,"Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas?"

The ulitharid felt its thrall's mind turned to alarm and confusion as it closed a hand on a dorje on its belt,

_I did not reveal my origin to the __sorcerer_, the drow male only smiled in response and the psion hissed in anger, _For your insolence alone, I will obliterate you._

"Foolish, naïve creature," was the cloaked male's only answer.

* * *

Charinda was trying to keep a weary eye on the other drow and try to keep the hunched goblin from escaping. She turned slightly at her master's angry hiss, confused to see it reach for a dorje on its belt. The goblinoid used this opportunity to scurry away into the mushroom field. She groaned and moved to go after it.

Light suddenly flooded the path. The bard flung her arms up, her sensitive eyes already watering from even that brief exposure. Maslynrensine had hissed in pain and no doubt was in a similar situation, trying to protect its own eyes from this harsh intruder. There came the sound of movement from the direction of the mushroom fields, the sound of heavy creatures charging. Instinctively the bard moved, dropping a globe of darkness down onto herself.

The loud clash of metal on stone almost deafened her. Quickly she moved to one side, exiting the darkness and fetching up behind one of the colossal mushrooms. When her sharp ears picked up further metallic noises she carefully peered around the fungi.

All the bard could see was an immense arc of silvery metal – until it retreated from the magical darkness, revealing its previously hidden form.

Her attacker was a golem; the silvery arc she had seen at first was the creature's curving spine. It stood somewhere between Maslynrensine's height and her own and in its four arms it held two, wickedly sharp scythes. The blinding light came in bright shafts from its 'eyes'. Out of the direct glare of that white radiance and in the surrounding dimmer area she could see well enough to spot the four circles of glass that shone so brightly.

Charinda cursed silently. Golems had no sentience to speak of; her master's psionics would have no effect. The guide didn't even know how well the ulitharid coped with light, but she was willing to bet that, like many inhabitants of the Underdark, it was badly. She couldn't even see the aberration anymore, but the sounds of battle were coming from deeper within the mushroom forest.

A noise from the golem drew her attention. It held its weapons in its upper-most pair of hands, leaving its lower pair free. It stretched one arm over the magical darkness and made a small adjustment to its wrist with the other hand.

A glowing green substance began to drip from that spot, falling down in the shadowy area below. Abruptly her globe of darkness flickered and winked out. The golem scanned the area, repeated the motion at its wrist and took up its weapons once more, the flow of the emerald radiance halted.

Charinda drew further and further away from the road. She had to get to the ulitharid – the sounds of battle had been joined by the roar of flames. Her amber eyes were fixed on the golem, ready to dart away should it come in her direction. That is why she was taken completely by surprise when a hand planted itself on her back.

A great chill spread through her body and limbs, the warmth leaving her muscles, stiffing and slowing her limbs. She turned, lashing out at her attacker with the githyanki bone. The _piwafwi_-clad drow easily dodged the clumsy blow and began another chant. Behind her came the sound of something huge and heavy pushing its way through the immense vegetation.

Knowing that the spell had made swordplay all but impossible, she tore the lightning wand from her belt. She spoke the command word and lightning leapt towards the male drow. The golem pushed past the last of the giant fungi and she turned, an agonizingly slow motion, and pointed the wand towards the metal creature.

The lightning struck the construct directly, blue sparks spreading out over its silvery skin. It was forced back a step but that brief moment was the only visible effect that the magic had on it and it continued towards her. Behind her came a dark chuckle and the mage stepped into her line of sight, shaking sparks out his _piwafwi_.

The golem lashed out with a bare hand, and Charinda was powerless to dodge the blow. It caught the bard a painful blow under the ribs and she was sent flying backwards into the stalk of a mushroom. Something snapped and for one heart-stopping moment the drow thought it was a bone. When she glanced down all she saw was the lightning wand broken almost completely in half. Light was bubbling up from the gash and she hurriedly threw the thing away, huddling close to the floor, covering her eyes.

She barely heard the scream amid the explosion and the roar of the flames that followed but it brought a smile to her lips all the same. She got to her feet, as fast as her spell-locked muscles would allow. Several of the immense fungi had burst into flames. The golem was on the ground, its limbs useless. Clutching his face in his hands, the drow mage was staggering past Charinda.

The bard seized the hem of his _piwafwi_ (mostly undamaged by the explosion and flames) in one hand and reached for her githyanki bone with the other. The male snarled and tore at the clasp at his throat, staggering free of the cloak. His hands fell from his face and he turned towards Charinda, hatred in his eyes.

The bard bit back a gasp as she saw his countenance in full. The individual features were as malleable as clay and were reconfiguring themselves as the female looked on. As she watched in fascinated horror, his face settled into a familiar configuration and red lines crept up his cheek to form an elaborate, abstract design.

"Impossible!" Charinda released her swords, staggering forward.

The male drow, the mage she and Maslynrensine fought in Hal'carnasas, hissed. Something flew from his open mouth and there was a stab of pain in Charinda's left shoulder. Shakily, the female dark elf reached up to the metal dart embedded in her flesh. The mage must have completed a spell. She tugged the weapon from her flesh and tried to move forward but she fell to her knees as a feverish sensation began to spread from the wound. Poison! The bard snarled at the mage, whose only reply was a smirk.

Another golem flew through the air between the two drow. This was followed by Maslynrensine appearing out of thin air. Seeing the ulitharid, the male drow made a gesture and vanished. Charinda had more immediate problems to attend to.

Two more golems, light still streaming from their eyes and still fully functional despite wide rends in their silvery skin, were pushing their way through flaming vegetation. Maslynrensine's eyes were closed – evidently its vision was even poorer than Charinda's in the strong light. Soot coated its mauve skin in wide streaks, though the aberration seemed unharmed.

The ulitharid abruptly turned, pointing a dorje at one of the advancing golems. Fire washed over its metal flesh. The head of a scythe was cleanly sheared off with a thought. More gaping holes appeared in the attacking creatures.

The bard realised that the ulitharid was using her eyes. It seemed like the golems had been ordered to keep their light trained on the telepath, to try and subdue it. But though they could follow orders they didn't have enough intelligence to guess the ulitharid's strategy.

As Charinda fought against the poison and her half-useless muscles, the first golem came from nowhere, scythes ready to carve the ulitharid's flesh from its bones. The aberration turned to meet the threat, though surely it was too late.

A line of green energy sprang from the darkness and hit the charging golem. The construct was briefly outlined in emerald light before it suddenly crumbled into dust. A bright pebble of flame floated past the guide to explode amid the final pair of golems.

Squinting against the bright flames, Charinda only caught a brief glimpse of a gaunt figure emerging from the shadows before the mushroom field, the fire and the harsh light vanished.

* * *

Charinda made a face at the foul taste of the antidote but refrained from further complaints. Once it became apparent that the poison was not deadly, merely excruciating and debilitating, her master could have easily left her to suffer as the poison left her system.

Currently the ulitharid sat cross-legged with a healing potion, carefully applying the solution to its eyes. Maslynrensine had suffered more in that regard – its silvery orbs were still painfully ringed with red, even after Charinda's healing song. On more than one occasion the bard had felt the slight pressure that meant the telepath was looking out through her eyes – perhaps its sight had not yet returned to normal.

Not that there was much to see. They had found themselves in a circular room, made of plain stone and with no entrances or exits. Whoever had been throwing magic around in their battle had evidently teleported them here.

Charinda inspected each of her blades carefully, touched her protective items and the _piwafwi_ that she had folded in half and wrapped loosely around her neck. She kept her body ready and waiting, but she still jumped slightly when a nearby part of the floor vanished and a large bat flew out of the resulting hole. The creature hovered for a brief second before plunging back down.

The bard and the telepath followed it, moving down a spiralling flight of stairs. The creature waited for them periodically, its tiny eyes watching them with much more than an animal's intelligence. Finally, all three of them emerged into another circular room, this one dominated, not only with various wizardly paraphernalia, but with the fallen body of one of their metal attackers.

Charinda was so distracted by the construct's presence that she did not notice the room's other occupant until the bat flew towards it. Her amber eyes widened and her hands went to her swords.

Had she been someone less versed in the ways of mind flayers she might have thought it an ordinary illithid. But the bard had lived among the aberrations for twelve years and to her, the differences were staggering.

It lacked the normal mucus-covering to its skin, so its flesh had dried and cracked and turned white with age. Its eyes had sunk deep into their sockets and turned grey about their edges. It was an undead mind flayer, but of a different class entirely to the illithid vampire she'd encountered before.

The creature before them was an illithilich.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Lich

**Chapter Eleven – Lich**

"_Mind flayers universally shun alhoons, considering them abominable because the undead creatures have sacrificed any hope of joining with the elder brain. An alhoon residing near an illithid community or outpost will be hunted and exterminated if its presence is discovered."_

- From _Lords of Madness_

_

* * *

  
_

A current of alarm ran through its thrall. Maslynrensine, bending down to enter the room, easily entered its slave's mind, looking out through her eyes. What it saw tore an involuntary hiss of rage from its throat.

_Abomination__!_ It straightened and stepped fully in the room, taking a dorje from its belt.

No fear was visible on the alhoon's withered face, neither was there any of the reverence that was due to a blessed ulitharid. Instead it calmly lifted the large bat onto its bony shoulder and glided across to a tool-laden workbench,

_Calm yourself_, its telepathic voice was as dry as its cracked skin. The psionic power behind it was weak, at least in comparison to Maslynrensine. In the ulitharid's opinion, not much attention had been paid to reinforcing that power since the illithid had left its infancy. However, it would have arcane might behind it and though the art of wizards and sorcerers was far less refined than the Invisible Art, the cruder art may well prevail.

_It is considered to be a breech of etiquette_, continued the lich, _to threaten those whom you contacted for assistance._

_I did no such thing! _Maslynrensine's silvery eyes fell on a hunched goblin huddled in the corner. So the creature had been an agent of the dragon's contact, _had the sorcerer imparted the fact that his contact was an abomination-_

_You did not think to ask_, the alhoon turn its cephalopod-like head towards the ulitharid, _which makes you both young and foolish. Foolish enough to threaten an alhoon in its own home? Ilsensine-_

Maslynrensine hissed. Its thrall had lowered her swords, her mind confused. The psion sent a sharp jolt of pain running through her nerves and she snapped into a defensive posture immediately.

_You dare utter that sacred name? _

_Dare I utter the name of my own deity?_ A dry, wheeze escaped the lich.

_You have forsaken your __obligations to the God Brain. By refusing to join with an elder brain you have gone against the tenants of Ilsensine._

_I went against the tenants of the elder brain, not to mention the so-called sacred children of Ilsensine-_

The lich's telepathic voice was cut off as fire roared towards it. Calmly it lifted one hand and the ulitharid's attack dissipated harmlessly against an invisible barrier. The same barrier must have held because the telepath's next attack – a scything blast of psionic energy – exploded against it with a harsh, screaming sound.

A rent opened in the fallen golem's metal flesh and similar openings appeared in the stone ceiling. The hunched goblin shrieked and scrambled for cover under a workbench. Maslynrensine goaded its own thrall into action and she slashed out at the lich with her swords. The lich easily mind blasted her and she fell to her knees, stunned.

_This has continued long enough,_ the alhoon made a wide gesture with a quartz stub, chanting all the while.

Charinda fought her way out of her daze and reached for one of her weapons. A heavy weight landed on her back and, craning her neck, she saw the bat clinging to her armour, staring back at her.

A soft burst of light drew her attention back to the mind flayers. Maslynrensine was hissing angrily from the centre of a shaft of light that ran from the ceiling to the floor. The aberration vanished and Charinda assumed that it had teleported. A heartbeat later it reappeared and the crystal in her head trembled with the psion's anger and surprise.

_You will find that will not avail you,_ the illithilich stowed the crystal back into its robe, _and it should keep you from interfering with my work for the moment._

The mage glided towards its workbench. Charinda's long fingers inched towards the hilt of her sword and it glanced towards her,

_Your thrall should know that my familiar has a spell in it. Should she attempt anything as misguided as a rescue then Saavan__ has his instructions._

Behind the undead creature, the barrier suddenly gave a screech and spat sparks. It turned, the alarm on its withered face fading as it saw the magic was still intact. But instead of an ulitharid, the circle of radiance contained a formless cloud.

_Ethereal jaunt? Ghost walk? Turning incorporeal wi__ll also not allow you to escape – you have only caused yourself to be trapped in that state. Consider it a period to calm your temper._

An angry hiss came from the mist and the barrier crackled again as a blast of psionic energy stuck it. The mage shook its cephalopod head,

_You're held there until I will otherwise. To squander your strength in futile pursuits is foolish._

The formless cloud that was Maslynrensine writhed in fury,

_Abomination! Who are you?_

The illithid inclined its head,

_I am Azathlan of __Osicariarn, formally a wizard of Hal'carnasas._

_

* * *

  
_

For a long while Maslynrensine remained in its cage, while its thrall sat on the floor, the mage's familiar clinging to her armour. The alhoon was busying itself with the golem, pulling the head apart with several slender tools. One of the undead creature's own thralls, a pale surface elf, had been summoned to take notes in an immense, leather tome.

Once the head was in pieces and arranged neatly on a tray, the wizard glided back towards the cage of light, leaving its thrall to sketch the individual components.

_You must understand something before I release you, Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas. You are in my stronghold, the centre of my personal realm. There are spells and wards in the very bedrock, layers that I have added to over many cycles. You have exhausted the bulk of your strength in battle with the constructs and I know that you h__ave no stronghold to return to. You have no hope of escape or of victory against me._

Maslynrensine hissed. It stung and ate at its pride but it knew the alhoon to be correct. The undead creature could have had centuries to hone its craft, even if it was the cruder mechanisms of arcane magic. If it wanted to have its vengeance then it would have to flee.

The alhoon retrieved the quartz crystal from one of its many pockets and touched it to the barrier. It vanished, leaving an ulitharid in its place.

Maslynrensine's tentacles were thrashing with rage, its skin was still smeared with soot and its silvery eyes were still red-rimmed and sore but it still managed to draw itself up as though it still ruled in Hal'carnasas. Azathlan gave a dry wheeze of amusement,

_I have no intention of harming you, Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas. To do so would be counter-productive._

_How so?_

The wizard wheezed again, gliding across the room to pick up a slender tome. Its familiar launched itself from the dark elf's back, settling again on its master's shoulder,

_The __sorcerer knew nothing of the many variations of the illithid race. He would not even know the word ulitharid – let alone the connotations it holds. I may doubt the blessed status that your kind holds,_ Maslynrensine hissed at those words, _but I do understand how rare a commodity you are. The scholar Phazolo calculated that less than one in several hundred tadpoles have the potential to become ulitharids. And to have one wandering about the Underdark – how could such an opportunity for study be refused?_

_So I was brought here under false pretences._

Azathlan waved a three-fingered hand dismissively,

_While it is true that I have no knowledge of that particular drow mage I do have my contacts in Sshamath__. It was my intention to direct you towards them – but I had planned to attend negotiations with my condition hidden by illusion,_ it glided across to the golem and laid a white hand on the silvery metal, _the golems spoilt my plans somewhat. Yet you were not expecting them either, Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas,_ greying eyes met the silvery ones of the ulitharid, _It would be best if I was to hear this tale from the beginning._

_

* * *

  
_

Charinda sat upright, trying to keep awake. She was exhausted, having journeyed through the Underdark and fought both golems and an illithilich. But her master, with its usual fastidiousness had insisted on washing the soot from its skin and robe and had expected the bard to fulfil her role as its personal servant. Luckily the lich had ordered its idle thralls into action and Maslynrensine, perhaps enjoying having a small army of thralls to lord over again, had accepted their service.

The female drow wasn't completely freed from employment. Her task was to watch the two surface elves washing the ulitharid's robe for any trickery and to guard the medicine case, the books and the brain of Zygensine, safe in its bronze canister.

She kept her amber eyes fixed on the slaves, though it was difficult. She was used to fatigue but the lich's home, the cavern called Osicariarn, was a surprisingly spectacular sight.

The tower into which she and Maslynrensine had been teleported was formed of a natural shaft in one cavern wall, divided into separate rooms. Wide, double doors lead out into the main body of the cavern which was given over to edible plants and those even stranger which must have been for spell components. A dark lake was fed by a narrow waterfall in the ceiling, in actuality a small portal to the Plane of Water through which fresh water was brought into the Prime Material Plane. The crowning glory of all this was a mighty sussar, a deeproot tree, with pale branches that reached the cavern roof. They were extremely rare and Charinda had seen only a few in her eventful life.

She was so taken with the sight that she nearly jumped out of her skin when the lich's familiar landed in her lap. Her quick glances confirmed her suspicions; the lich was gliding towards her, eyes fixed on her form. She glared back then turned away to watch the slaves again.

_Your mind is __interesting._

The cryptic words drew the drow's attention and she turned the full force of her glare onto the lich,

"How so?"

_It is strange. Unlike others of your species it is difficult to read and impossible to enter. I have several theories as to why, but my magic could find no protective items on your person and I have no reason to suspect psionic talent. The most likely answer is a modification made by your master._

Charinda narrowed her eyes further. She did not trust her master and she did not trust this new mind flayer either – to both Maslynrensine and Azathlan she was a thrall, a commodity and a resource to their own race. However, the lich could have some insight into her condition. Perhaps it might even share the information it had with her – even if it was only to irritate the ulitharid.

"My master," she began cautiously, "put… it put some kind of crystal inside my head… as an experiment," she touched her temple as she spoke, imagining she could feel the intruding object writhing inside her skull.

Azathlan shook its cephalopod head,

_Hardly a significant piece of evidence. Crystal is a fundamental component in many areas of psionic research,_ its grey eyes fixed themselves on the bard, its tentacles slowly squirming as it considered. Its familiar took wing again, chasing pale moths through the air. At last it appeared to reach a conclusion,

_Your mental defences are strong, yet they hold no obstacle to your master?_ Charinda nodded in agreement and it continued, _Then… _it paused again, _it would a risky operation, but given a sufficiently hardy stock of specimens… A psicrystal._

"A what?" the word seemed familiar.

_Consider a wizard's familiar,_ obediently Azathlan's bat returned to its shoulder, _a familiar such as Saavan was a normal creature before being summoned to my service – an external object. Your master's power, unlike mine, does not come from an external source. Instead its powers are a result of mental energy, created and stored inside its own mind. Similarly a psicrystal is an internal object. What you carry inside you is a fragment of your master's personality given physical form._

Charinda felt ill. Every suspicion she'd had was true – a tiny piece of an ulitharid was inside her.

_A fascinating concept, as I am sure you will agree__,_ said the lich and she felt the amusement behind those words and the dark anger that it inspired within her.

* * *

Inwardly, Maslynrensine was boiling with rage. Its anger was reserved for the pale, withered abomination that stood before it.

_I refuse to allow an abomination to travel with me._

_You are in no position to allow anything, Maslynrensine,_ Azathlan waved one tentacle in dismissal; _I am the one with contacts in Sshamath._

_I am capable of obtaining information from the thrall races._

_But hardly capable of defeating golems without my assistance and my magic,_ the amusement in the wizard's tone only served to increase Maslynrensine's ire, _moreover, only I control the means of leaving Osicariarn. You have no choice in the matter._

The ulitharid snarled but the alhoon ignored it. Instead it reached inside a pocket, pulling out a tiny wand of silver. With a gesture and a command, a portal appeared in the cavern wall, the other side opening out onto an Underdark corridor. Finally, the wizard took its familiar from its shoulder, presumably in private telepathic communication with it. A moment later the bat flew through the air deeper in Osicariarn.

_Shall we?_

Narrowing its silvery eyes, Maslynrensine drew itself up regally and stepped through the portal. It heard a dry wheeze of amusement from the lich and its tentacles thrashed in rages before the psion brought them under control. It knew that the alhoon was correct – against the golems its telepathic powers had been useless. It also needed the wizard's contacts in Sshamath and the knowledge they could give it.

It stung its pride to think of this but it knew that allowing the destroyers of Hal'carnasas to go free would be far, far worse. When it had its vengeance… then Maslynrensine could think of other things. The destruction of an abomination for instance, would be very satisfying.

* * *

**Jessi:** Ah, I am glad that I've finally introduced Azathlan into the story. In case you've forgotten, we last saw it back in the prologue. Strange how the first character that was introduced has taken so long to be mentioned again.


	13. Chapter Twelve: Punishment

**Chapter Twelve – ****Punishment**

_Newly captured slaves are subjected to inspection and disinfection, followed by constant psychic bombardment to ensure that they become docile and willing thralls. Those lucky few who managed to escape from thraldom describe it as a waking nightmare. The slave is always aware of what he is doing and is filled with revulsion at his deeds, but is powerless to resist illithid commands. The hopelessness and horror of this mental captivity bears down on the thrall as a constant weight._

– From _Lords of Madness_

* * *

Charinda leant in the narrow entrance to the alcove, her eyes idly scanning the corridor. This particular tunnel run straight for a couple of hundred feet in both directions and the bard was certain that her keen hearing would note the approach of potential foes. She shifted from one foot to another, her gaze falling onto the two mind flayers.

It was cramped in the alcove, the majority of space taken up by Maslynrensine. It sat pressed against the wall, knees drawn up against its chest, its longer tentacles kept close to its body so as not to come into contact with grimy stone or undead flesh. Through the psicrystal that she carried within her, Charinda could feel the telepath's anger smouldering deep inside it. Even if she didn't have the crystal, the guide would have known by the narrowed silvery eyes that were fixed on their newest companion.

Azathlan was calmly mixing the contents of a pair of glass vials together. Both powders looked grey in darkvision but this did not appear to hamper the wizard in the slightest. Resealing both of the containers, it replaced them in an inner pocket and took a double handful of the mixture. A short chant followed before the lich cast the powder over its own head.

A dim radiance slid over the wizard's flesh and Charinda watched in fascination as the undead creature's white, withered flesh changed, smoothing out, becoming glossy and slick with mucus. Azathlan looked down at its hands, uttering a short gurgle of amusement (the illusion even covering the dry wheezes that usually escaped it) as it beheld the healthy mauve flesh of a living illithid.

_Hiding behind your magic? You fear the reprisals of true il__lithids for your abominable state;_ the hate in Maslynrensine's telepathic voice was readily apparent. If it were possible, Charinda suspected it would have spat the words.

The wizard held its cephalopod head high. In this position, with Maslynrensine forced to doubled itself up, Azathlan had a height advantage,

_Hardly. This is merely to facilitate negotiations with my contacts and to keep the eyes of curious away. Speaking of which,_ its words became infused with a cruel delight, _you are quite noticeable, yourself, Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas._

It slid a narrow circlet of jade from an inner pocket. The ulitharid's eyes were drawn to it, narrowing further in suspicion.

_Shape-shifting spells are normally complex, but this should be quite simple. __An ulitharid and an illithid differ in only a few minor aspects-_

_No._

Charinda took a step back as Maslynrensine rose to its feet. The lich remained where it was.

_I am a sacred child of Ilsensine! __To assume the form of a lesser creature – the very idea is blasphemy!_

Even when it was unable to stand properly, Maslynrensine, with its tentacles thrashing in rage and its telepathic voice suffused with dark rage, was a terrifying apparition. The impassive and collected manner that all mind flayers cultivated was gone. Instead the ulitharid's temper, once known and feared throughout Hal'carnasas by thrall and illithid alike, was provoked.

_It has already been demonstrated that you are unable to fight against your mysterious opponent, Maslynrensine. Against the golems my magic was your deliverance._

_I did not request your aid and I do not wish it now! I do not need your powders or your incantations,_ Charinda closed her eyes against a sudden pain in her head when she opened her eyes again there were two illithids standing in the alcove. The illithid that was Maslynrensine, appearing as an almost exact miniature of the ulitharid, lifted its cephalopod head regally; _I am perfectly capable of disguising myself and with far more finesse than your magic._

The disguised lich merely shook its own head,

_What I presume you have done is attempt to reach into my mind, trying to convince me that an illithid stands before me instead of an ulitharid__. It may be effective against lesser minds, but you forget that such tricks do not work against someone of my condition._

The lich reached again into its robes, retrieving a complex mess of gold wire and crystal chips. Manipulating this caused the image of Maslynrensine's illithid form to waver and ripple as though it were a pool of water someone had thrown a stone into. A mere heartbeat later the image shattered and, once again, an ulitharid stood hunched in the alcove.

_Do you truly believe that I shall be the only undead creature in Sshamath? Not only __are the lesser varieties of undead common within the city but many of the wizards themselves are liches and vampires, perfectly capable of penetrating your disguise and of taking action. Perhaps you would meet your end as spell components on a wizard's shelf or in any number of ways._

Still the ulitharid remained silent, eyes narrowed and arms folded across its chest. The lich shook its cephalopod head and slid its wire-and-crystal device and the jade circlet back into its robes,

_If the Most High and Sacred Child of Ilsensine will not consent to shape-shifting perhaps illusionary magic will suffice,_ Maslynrensine hissed at the wizard's tone but the undead creature ignored it and took out the vial of powder it had used on itself. It tossed a handful at the telepath, whose form shimmered and shifted once more until a miniature version of the ulitharid (minus its two extra tentacles) appeared.

The psion marched out of the alcove – its tentacles writhing as though it had won a victory for itself.

_You still required my magic, Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas. Do not forget that. Remember also that you now enter Sshamath and only wizardry rules here._

_

* * *

  
_

To teleport directly into the City of Dark Weavings was punishable by confiscation of magic items so it was traditional to first arrive in the entrance cavern, high in the ceiling of Sshamath. As many had before them, the two mind flayers and one thrall made their way to the city proper by way of the long, spiralling ramp that wound its way around the great pillar of Z'orr'bauth.

Maslynrensine was kept between Azathlan and Charinda, much to its displeasure. It was, however, necessary as the illusion that concealed the psion's true nature was strictly visual in nature and the road down to the cavern floor of Sshamath was busy. Foot traffic joined the road from one of the many stone bridges that connected Z'orr'bauth to one of the many other columns that stretched from the cave ceiling to the floor. Merchants eased vast caravans down the slope, beasts of burden complaining loudly. A dark elf necromancer dressed all in black and in a sedan chair supported by two zombies passed the trio. Even the mind flayers had to move for a massive golem, emblazoned with the crest of the College of Abjuration.

Charinda had been to Sshamath before. She knew that, unlike most drow cities, arcane might and not divine ruled here. The city was ruled by mages – the Conclave of Sshamath made up of representatives of the colleges of magic. But the drow of the City of Dark Weavings valued power gained through study – her bardic magic was considered far inferior to wizardry. She did not know what the citizens here thought of the Invisible Art but she feared that her master's temper would soon be riled.

She shook her head, fixing her gaze on the city spread below her. Her goals had been temporarily diverted by the disasters that had befallen Ched Nasad but here in Sshamath she could try once more.

The Guild of Underdark Guides did brisk business here – leading college-sponsored exhibitions to study interesting areas of the Underdark; being hired to locate a rare spell-component, their commissions were many and varied in the City of Dark Weavings. She was certain that her guild thought her dead for the past twelve years – all members were required to send word via a sending spell regularly whilst in the field and the messenger medallion that the bard had used for this had been taken from her by Maslynrensine. But surely, they would understand this breech of protocol.

They'd reached the end of the ramp and the two mind flayers had paused in private communication, the traffic flowing around them. Everyone gave them a wide berth, the reputation of mind flayers serving them well – there was less chance that someone would walk into Maslynrensine's concealed bulk.

She stepped closer to the two mind flayers, head bowed like a good little thrall. Her master turned its cephalopod head (or what appeared as its head; the illusionary skin that the ulitharid wore would have only reached its chest) and after a moment its voice appeared in her head,

_You have the chance to redeem yourself for __the trouble you caused me in the slum camp, thrall. Fail to obtain valid information,_ the psicrystal within Charinda's body gave a warning quiver, _and the consequences will be dire,_ it turned back to the lich, dismissing her curtly, _I shall summon you if required, thrall._

Charinda joined the crowd, making her way to a side-street that was less packed with Underdark inhabitants. Once there was sufficient space she broke into a run, her feet taking her down a familiar path and hopefully away from her servitude.

* * *

The Guild of Underdark Guides was prosperous enough that that its Sshamath branch had a hollowed-out stalagmite to itself. The door was carved with the map-on-scroll symbol of the guild and a banner with the same symbol picked out in glowing thread hung above it.

The interior was the same as Charinda remembered it, the round room with the staircase hugging the back wall, the small shrine to Grumbar the Earthlord, with offerings of semi-precious stones laid out in front of it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp intake of breath and a voice,

"Fuck me! Charinda! Long-shanks, is that you?"

A male drow had been sprawled over one of the many chairs in the room, but was now hanging onto it for support, an expression of shock across his face.

Across Charinda's face the first genuine smile in years was spreading.

* * *

Lymeyrr Szoratar was a slim male, with the typical red eyes of a dark elf and a rare shade of blonde hair that he grew long. He had some small skill at wizardry but his main talent was in the stealthy arts. He had come into the guild at the same time as Charinda and the pair had worked together on many an occasion.

"No one's heard from you in twelve years, Long-shanks. We thought…" Lymeyrr trailed off. Charinda fixed the other drow with her piercing gaze never ceasing to wolf down strips of cured rothé meat.

"You look thinner," the blonde drow smiled sadly. His hand went to the discrete symbol of Grumbar pinned to the inside of his collar, "and you've grown out your hair."

"I need help, Lymeyrr."

"I know it's slavery you're running from. But freedom from the illithids is not easily gained, Long-shanks."

A strip of meat fell from the bard's fingers,

"How did you know it was the mind flayers?"

The male guide rummaged through his pockets,

"This was being handed out. I sent the servants out to get some Sending magic so I could reach the Council," he extracted a tight roll of parchment and passed it over, "Now that you're here, I can arrange negotiations between the Council and your captors. Even illithids need our services from time-"

"Who gave you this?" Charinda looked with horror at what was written on the parchment. Lymeyrr shrugged,

"A thrall, I assume. Another drow but not one of ours, don't you worry. I'd have remembered one with a tattoo like that," he tapped his cheek with one slender finger, "Right across the face."

The parchment and the image of her face and sharp profile crumpled beneath her fingers. They'd known that Maslynrensine could disguise itself but she was recognisable herself, wasn't she. If they were hunting her to get to the ulitharid…

"Charinda? Long-shanks?" Lymeyrr's brow creased and he reached out to her.

They were interrupted by a sound like a whip and the table creaking under a sudden weight.

* * *

Maslynrensine of Hal'carnasas glanced down at his thrall, easily sensing her horror. She would recognise it, even with its disguise, by the brain canister tied to its waist. The other drow was filled with revulsion and fear and hate, even with his limited intellect the male could guess that it was the owner of the female thrall.

Even without its own formidable intelligence and its telepathic abilities Maslynrensine would have known why its thrall came here. She had tried to escape its service and return to her guild.

"Sir, that female is a member of the Guild of Underdark Guides," the yellow-haired dark elf had a hand on a hidden wand and was inexpertly trying to conceal that fact in his mind, "I must ask that you step away from Guide Elvanisstra. Negotiations will begin with the Council and you will be compensated-"

The psion allowed an amused hiss to escape its throat. Its thrall's mind flooded with terror and the ulitharid purposely held back for a heartbeat, allowing the first panicked syllables to escape the female's throat.

The mind blast tore through the male's meagre defences, sending him flying backwards. Its thrall let out a scream of rage and went for her swords. The telepath's only response was a brief glance, sending out its intelligence to connect with its psicrystal. Another scream tore its way from the female's throat, this one of pain. The swords fell to the ground and the dark elf collapsed, curling into a foetal position, sobbing and shrieking all the while.

Maslynrensine knew how its psionics were manipulating the female's nerves causing pain to surge through her body. Any observing mind flayer would have been impressed with the artistry involved, the way that no harm came to the physical body but the mental pain…

Tentacles coiling with pride, the ulitharid stepped closer to the female, watching her body shudder and shriek,

_You cannot hope to appreciate the work involved in these sensations, thrall,_ it knew that the thrall could comprehend its words, even through her pain, _but you shall come to understand how I have shown mercy towards you today. There are far worse fates that I could bring about._

There was the hum of magic in the air and a magic missile struck the ulitharid's psionic protections. The illusion it wore rippled and warped under the blow and the aberration dispelled it as it turned towards the yellow-haired drow.

The male was gaping in horror at the sight of a sacred child of Ilsensine, but still managed to draw a small hand crossbow. It crumbled into splinters in his hand and Maslynrensine sent a bolt of pain through his head.

Its thrall's mind had been full of memories of this yellow-haired creature. A more efficient punishment could be found here.

_Had you remained a loyal and obedient thrall and never fled to this place then this would not have occurred._

The male drow was lifted bodily into the air with telekinesis. Crimson eyes met and were held by the blank silvery orbs.

A knife fell from a suddenly slack hand with an incongruous musical sound. The light fled from the guide's eyes, replaced with a far-off look of horror. Maslynrensine let the male fall to the floor and he began to shake and whimper.

_I have sealed this male's mind into a false reality of my own creation. The one you call Lymeyrr Szoratar will live out the rest of his days amongst the most exquisite horrors that the illithid race has invented. You should not have brought him into __this;_ the ulitharid broke off telepathy with its thrall, rising above her tortured screams and the whimpers of the mentally-trapped male. Perhaps its psionics would reveal a lesser being trying to conceal itself in a hidden corner, something with an appetizing brain.

Maslynrensine was brought from its contemplations by a hand gripping the material of its robe. With a keen interest it watched its thrall, still suffering under the unabated ministrations of its psicrystal, shakily try to pull itself upright by the ulitharid's skirts. It was still deliberating what the punishment should be for this hated physical contact when the guide began to speak,

"P-p-ple'se," speech was nearly beyond the female, "N't… n-not 'im."

_You are not in a position to negotiate. This is the natural conclusion to your rebellious __tendencies._

"B-b-but 'e k-knows…" the female's speech trailed off into an incoherent scream. Maslynrensine watched with disinterest. Instead of waiting for the slave to force the answer from her lips it dove into her mind instead.

What it found there was interesting.

_So they are tracking me by trying to find you,_ it eased its thrall's pain and she moaned in relief, though the remaining agony was enough that she still had to cling to the aberration to remain upright, _I could indeed release your companion to question him,_ it allowed the joy to spread through its slave's mind before continuing, _But what would I receive in return? You would hardly cease your rebellion this way._

The dark elf released its robe and slid to the floor. She took the hem in her fingers and began kissing the dark cloth,

"Please, please, my Master."

_This is a pleasing attitude, my little __thrall;_ a tentacle brushed her head in a calculated parody of affection, and Maslynrensine watched the disgust and self-loathing arise in the dark elf's mind. It stepped away from the grovelling drow, noting with some revulsion that saliva glistened on its clothing; _Remove your fluids from my apparel and you shall assist in my questioning of the male._

* * *

Charinda shuddered as the agony finally ceased. Her body still trembled in the aftermath but she still crawled forward to where a tentacle indicated. She began to remove the evidence of her kisses, holding the robe away from her face so that her angry tears did not fall onto the rich material.

* * *

**Jessi:** Ah, I hope Maslynrensine was evil enough in this chapter. I do like writing it when it's acting like this - it's a lot of fun. Also I've noticed that I've started to write Mas as a kind of germ phobic character. I think it works well for illithids when they live in a society without much in the way of physical contact.


End file.
